


Ticking Away

by siffy



Category: RWBY
Genre: Blood and Injury, Fix-It, Flashbacks, M/M, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, canon divergence - vol 7, slowish burn i should say, vol 7 compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 57,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25539805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siffy/pseuds/siffy
Summary: They had lost. Salem had succeeded with her plan, and had laid the continent to ruin. There was nothing left of Atlas, Mantle, its people...nothing. But a fragment of Ozpin's powers remain in Oscar, and it's enough for a shred of hope. They couldn't fix what had happened, but perhaps, they could stop it before it ever occurred. Qrow would stop at nothing to save what he had lost, including James and Clover. Even if that meant travelling back in time and having to relieve that recent trauma.But, when you mess with time, it tends to bite back.Despite knowing what's going to happen, Qrow soon realizes that he can't always prevent the destined path. Clover's death looms ahead, and James' spiral into his own pit of fear still sends shockwaves throughout Atlas. It's the only chance he has, however, at a sliver of a happy ending.
Relationships: Clover Ebi & James Ironwood, Clover Ebi/James Ironwood, Qrow Branwen & Clover Ebi, Qrow Branwen & James Ironwood, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi/James Ironwood, Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood
Comments: 27
Kudos: 129





	1. Chapter 1

Each lungful of air brought into Qrow’s chest burned. It tasted of ash, of copper, of burnt flesh. The dust from the buildings fluttered delicately across the air, and the ground lay torn open and in ruins before him. His nose burned from the toxic smell of minerals and dust, searing all the way down his throat and back into his lungs. Everything tasted so vile, so disgusting, that each breath he felt was taking in another human being’s remains. 

He’d seen death and demise before, but he could not recall being able to taste it on his tongue.

The ground beneath his boots didn’t feel solid. Qrow felt unsteady, unstable as he slowly slogged through the thick mush of snow, melted concrete, and more possible remains. His head hung down, unable to see much past the steaming smog rising from the ground and from his own eyes blurred over. Each step sank deeper into the mud as he fought to stay standing upright against it. A constant, angry heat elevated from the ground and burned at his feet and ankles, even through the thick rubber of his soles. As the heat grew unbearable, he wondered...Were his boots just gone at that point? How thick did the sludge reach up to on his legs? Gods, he couldn’t even feel his own body anymore. His ears rang, vibrating and pounding against his skull. No, he couldn’t hear anything, or perhaps, there was simply no sort of sound available. 

To think, that just a half hour ago there had been an entire continent here…

Qrow let his mouth hang open, taking in desperate, hungry gulps of air. Every attempt he made only sent him back into a coughing fit, spitting up something that tasted of copper and bile. His lungs ached painfully for oxygen; whatever he was breathing in clearly wasn’t meant to be in his system. Even his veins seemed to twist and knot just below his skin with a vile burning throb. 

But he couldn’t stop yet. He couldn’t leave, not yet. He had to keep moving. Surely...he wasn’t the only one standing on the remnants of the continent...right? There...there had to be someone that had survived the blow...there had to be…

Qrow released a feral, bellowing cry that sounded more animal than human. The wail echoed across the empty strait of land, fading and dissipating away onto the wind. There wasn’t a single sound, not a damn sound...he didn’t even hear himself wail pitifully for a response.

No. He was the only one here, wasn’t he? The others had fled in the airship...he had chosen to stay behind, to search for survivors. Yet, he suddenly felt that heavy weight of despair press hard against his chest. There was nothing left, not even remnants of the disaster. No fallen buildings, no crushed cars, no broken roads...there wasn’t any rubble for him to search through. Everything was ruined. The fall of Atlas onto Mantle had destroyed everything. The remains of Atlas and Mantle had been worn down and melted into the soup that he waded through currently. It’s land, it’s society, it’s people...bore down to but simple ash that he paced through.

Quietly he groaned again, blinking away the tears that welled in his eyes. What was he doing here? This place was a wasteland. What was he searching for, here? They had lost. They had failed. Salem had won, after all this time, Salem had won...the evidence was right under his feet. Just like that, she had wiped out thousands of people, with a simple drop of a hat.

Qrow swallowed hard, struggling to see clearly past the blurring in his gaze. His hands trembled, tugging hard at the jacket that he wore. No...he couldn’t give up just yet. There had to be someone that was alive...someone that had made it. Not for their sake, but rather, for his own sanity, his own well being.

With a pained hiss, he began to move again. He lifted his feet up from the mush. His boots sucked out with a loud slurping noise, reluctantly freeing him from its hold. The ground beneath him felt like a hot soupy mess, and was almost enough to get him to move further more.

His head lifted back up, searching across the damage. Surely...somewhere they had to be something. Some sort of bastion, someone alive, something--!

Before him, the damage went on towards the cusp of his vision. The very edge of what he could see was the tip of a tall wall, spreading far around him, reaching across with no end. He couldn’t comprehend the wall’s length or size. It made him feel suddenly small, like a simple ant resting in a child’s footprint. In a sense, it reminded him of a huge bowl; barriers reaching up towards the sky, with everything slumping towards the middle. A bowl was an understatement, he thought bitterly. This was where Atlas was smashed into Mantle, leaving but a crater in its wake. 

The ground was scorched all throughout, burning hot and smelting not just below his feet. Hot mush and magma spilled over and dripped towards the center of the crater. Some of the edges of the crater tumbled inside, crashing down in a rockslide that smeared the inner sides. The land itself was almost black; a remnant of the burning that occurred only a while ago. Spreading across the land was that thick slop, bubbling towards the middle where it was hottest. It was what he had been walking in for this long. The melting pot of Atlas and Mantle.

Qrow continued to walk, moving further into the inner crater. His scroll in his pocket vibrated intensely, but he was unable to pay it any mind as he continued to move. No, he couldn’t handle contact yet with the others. Not just contact that willed him to leave this place and return to the ship. He walked in towards where the city had been the thickest, stepping past the flash of white bones that melted into the sludge and the ruined concrete.

It was only when he finally saw some rubble did he finally stop. The sight of a lone building that had survived the wreckage--or rather, hadn’t been melted down upon impact. Really it looked less like a building and more a splattering of rock and glass. Some of it was submerged beneath the bubbling stew, but most of it was still surfaced and reaching out to the clouded sky. From here, it looked as if it could scrape the thick layer of smog above him.

Qrow gazed up at the black, unforgiving sky, before back down to the rubble before him. He only hesitated for a minute before crossing the thick river separating him from the rubble. With a stumbling stagger he crossed the burning sludge. It ate away at his pants up to his knee and scorched his legs, causing his aura to flicker dangerously. However, it triggered no visible reaction on his face. The only thing on his mind at that moment was getting to the rubble.

Someone...someone could’ve been alive. If the building had at least survived a bit, then perhaps, someone was alive. Even trapped within the rock, they could be alive! They had to be...they had to be! Someone had to have survived Salem’s plan…!

Once he finally approached, he wasted no time in digging. His hands lashed out, pushing and pulling the boulders and pikes of beams out of the way. They landed with a thud beside him, sinking into the mush he stood in. His hands grew bloodied as the rough rock cut into his palms and his fingers. Yet despite the stain of red, he continued to press on, digging deeper into the rubble.

A large boulder of rock was pushed out of the way, and a flash of metal shined in his eyes. In an instant Qrow froze. The metal had a clear shape to it. It wasn’t just melted rods and metal strips. No, this had a defined look to it. It...looked almost like an arm.

The thought seemed to send Qrow into a frenzy. Only one man he knew had a metal arm that looked like that. Of course this building hadn’t been melted into the ground right away. If this was the building he was thinking of, the last place he saw him alive...It was built to last, it was built to hold the relics. It wasn’t destroyed instantly. Perhaps, then, the man--

“James, James...don’t you do this to me...don’t you dare!”

Qrow pushed another rock out of the way. The large crash it sounded against the melting ground beneath them did nothing to muffle the sudden wailing shriek that ripped from the huntsman’s throat. Slowly, the rock rolled down the slope of the hill the rubble rested on, glistening with old blood dried a sickly brown in the dim light. It landed in the river Qrow had crossed earlier, melting away to the sound of his pained, desperate sobs of grief.

==

It was an oppressive silence, one where even the world seemed to be at a solid standstill. A force that kept them quiet, kept things still, at the risk of bringing to attention the situation that they were in. The only sounds that could be heard were the ominous, low droning whirs of the engines in the plane. Whipping winds crashing into the plane produced no noise, and not even the occupants breaths could be heard. Their existence was still and separate from the wasteland just past the windows of the plane.

Dark smog and clouds filled the windows, refusing to give an opportunity of a glance outside. Like a curtain, it shielded from viewing the destruction and despair, only offering a cold chill that seeped through the glass. There was nothing past the glass that they were looking to see, however; nothing was left on that face of the planet. Only one occupant stared intently out this foggy window with a dull gaze. He seemed to be the only one brave enough among their crew.

“Uncle Qrow?”

Red eyes didn’t tear away from the glazed port. Qrow’s body remained hunched forward, gazing out through the glass, staring at nothing with a despondent look. He didn’t acknowledge Ruby’s call, not even when she repeated it again, and again, and once more. The only way to tell he was responsive, even, under the layers of dried blood, bruises, and tears in his skin were the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the occasional blink of his eyes. But the man paid his niece no mind.

Ruby exhaled softly. Her ribs ached terribly, and she slowly leaned forward against her knees. Slowly her limbs were brought in to press hard against her trunk, trying to calm down the swelling emotions within her. Threatening to burst, she swallowed heavily, trembling from where she sat on the bench.

“Ruby…” Penny whispered, resting a gentle hand on her back. Weiss watched with a saddened look, Blake and Yang’s attention flickering back to their younger member. None of them spoke up; there was nothing to say. There were no consolements that they could offer.

Jaune, instead, breathed out heavily. Sitting next to Nora and Ren, he rested his back against the cold wall of the plane, letting his eyes fall shut. A few ragged breaths left his throat, a vain attempt to calm himself down. With a dull thud his head fell back against the hull. Not even he could offer words of wisdom.

“We lost.” Nora finally spat out the words. Like a poison, like a taboo, the words were discarded from her mouth. The young woman glared down at a spot on the floor, her lip curled up in a snarl. Her fists shook terribly against her knees. “We lost--we lost everything! Salem won! Just like Beacon and Haven, we lost Atlas and Mantle too--!”

“Nora.” Ren quietly whispered. She flinched away when he touched her, but he did not pull away. Instead his fingers quietly curled around her wrist, squeezing hard in an attempt to reassure her.

“No! We lost everything! Everyone is dead!” Nora snapped, her glare falling to him. Ren did not respond, his jaw set in a tight line, pink eyes glazed over and glassy.

Weiss lifted her head from the other side of Ruby to look at Nora sadly.

“Salem won! She destroyed Atlas and Mantle--there’s nothing left!” Nora continued. Her muscles tightened, and she shook with a terrible anger, eyes wild and feral. Despite this, Ren continued to shift closer. His hand moved to rest lightly on her back.

“We...we can look for survivors…” Blake tried to offer meekly.

Jaune let out a bitter laugh at that.

“Salem smashed Atlas back into the ground.” Jaune scoffed, not breaking his gaze from a spot in the ceiling. “She brought Atlas so high up into the sky, that when she let it drop, it turned into a giant meteor. There’s nothing left, Blake. It flattened the continent and killed everyone in one fell swoop. There’s no survivors to save.”

“Maria, Robyn, the Ace Ops…” Yang whispered.

“My father…” Penny exhaled. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she rested against Ruby’s form from where she was still crumbled over; this time looking to her for guidance and support.

“Winter, Whitley...my mother...my father…” Weiss choked out. Speaking the words aloud seemed to finally break her. She leaned forward suddenly, letting out a croaking, pained sob, and pressed a hand hard to her mouth. She shook terribly, unable to hold herself back from crying. No one made a move to stop her. Instead, Blake quietly pulled Weiss close to hold against her chest.

“Everyone is gone!” Nora snapped. “They’re all dead! There’s no survivors--! There’s nothing we can do now!”

“We failed.” Ren muttered, letting his head fall forward. His face was obscured from his bangs, hair loose and falling from the battle prior. A few shaking breaths were heard, and he slowly shook his head. “We lost. We...we couldn’t stop Salem. There was no hope, there was no point. We lost.”

“Is...is there...really nothing we can do?” Ruby finally spoke up again. She lifted her head, pushing slightly against Penny to sit up straight. Her gaze settled back at her teammates. “We...is there...there has to be something…! We...we can’t let her win.”

“She’s already won.” Yang murmured in realization, her brief glimmer of hope fading out. Her remaining hand rubbed tiredly at her face, the stump of her other arm pressing hard against her side. The prosthetic was lost long ago in the fight. 

“She’s taken out Beacon, Haven, and now Atlas and Mantle.” Jaune pointed out. “What else is there? Those are some of the major continents and cities. There’s still no global communication, so we can’t even warn the surviving cities and countries. We can’t call in reinforcements. There’s...there’s nothing left to protect here. There’s nothing.”

Ruby swallowed painfully, unable to stop trembling. Her fingers dug tightly into her arms as she tried to hug herself, trying to calm herself down in any way. They couldn’t have lost. This couldn’t have been it. Good was supposed to prevail. Did they finally lose to Salem after all this fighting? They had spent so much time, so much energy, so many resources already to begin with. They had been close...they had almost had the favor of the Atlesian Military. If anyone could’ve stopped Salem, it would’ve been them. But how did things get so terribly wrong? How did Ironwood lose trust and faith in them? How did Salem manage to ruin things from behind the scenes again? How did the countries become so divided…? She knew those answers, but the effort and stress still had her head spinning. They had lost so much.

Everything that could’ve gone wrong, went terribly wrong. 

Ruby let her gaze fall back to her uncle, who had not moved since she tried to speak with him earlier. Her throat tightened, watching him with a sad, miserable expression. Clover’s death, and now Ironwood’s death...two people that Qrow had gotten close with so quickly had slipped from their fingers so easily. Like a candle, they were snuffed out. Two more people to add to the list that Qrow had to watch die, or was now left to survive alone in the wake of their death. 

It was a wonder that he hadn’t lost his mind yet, Ruby thought. His life hadn’t been fair nor had it been easy. There was so much guilt that he already held...how much more could he carry? She exhaled softly, shaking her head slowly. Part of her wanted to cross the distance in the ship and comfort him. But the stiff way he was sitting, back to them, blank gaze out the fogged window...it wouldn’t be fruitful. She could tell. It wasn’t worth it. It would just lead to an argument, or he wouldn’t even respond. Not that she herself had much emotional strength left in her...almost all of it had been sapped by now. All of this...was too much. She couldn’t summon the energy to even stand up, let alone comfort another person.

“There...there is one thing we can do.”

Attention in the ship was immediately grabbed and thrust to Oscar, who had been quiet this entire time. He did not look up at them, instead staring at the closed staff in his hands. His thumbs ran over the gears slowly, methodically, mouthing something to himself. Had someone not connected the voice to the owner, it would’ve looked like he hadn’t said anything at all.

“What?” Ruby questioned softly, slowly shifting to better face him. “What...what do you mean? What can we do?”

Oscar took another moment to observe the staff, before finally gaining the strength to sit up again. His back straightened out, and his gaze tightened, a determined, hopeful look on his face. The staff was held tightly in one hand, squeezed hard enough that the shaft was forced out with a loud snap.

“I think we can have another shot at fixing this.” Oscar spoke, looking to all of them. The soft cries and weeps of their companions ceased, all attention focused now to Oscar. Even Qrow's head tilted just a bit towards him to show that he was listening. 

“All of this--all of this is from misunderstandings and miscommunication.” Oscar quickly continued. “We didn’t know the threat was right under our nose. We hadn’t known back then what we know now. We didn’t have the right opportunities or enough facts to tell Ironwood, to tell the Ace-Ops, what was happening and what needed to be done. It was all in ‘what if’s’ and in ‘maybes’--”

“Enough facts?” Weiss growled. “What more did we have to tell the General for him to listen?!”

“Ironwood was scared. His fear made him delusional and paranoid.” Oscar explained, his voice strangely calm and even. “When dealing with someone like that, you have to...well, you have to go about it a certain way. No, that’s not the right way to say it… His position of power made it hard to just, like, talk with him. It made it hard to listen, and when you’re that terrified, it’s even harder. It’s hard to change your thinking when you’re spiralling down too fast. If we had known what we knew back then, then maybe we could’ve convinced him. We almost had him in the beginning--! But something happened that sent him over the deep end. If we could just--”

“It’s too late now.” Yang grumbled, her eyes narrowing towards Oscar. “It’s not like we can just...go back in time and try again. We can’t. We missed our shot. There’s nothing we can do now.”

“There’s--there’s one thing we can do!” Oscar quickly repeated. “We can have another shot at this! I-I think--!”

“You think?” Qrow suddenly spoke up. His growl startled the kids, who looked at him in surprise and in mild fear. He did not get up from where he was huddled by the window, but he turned instead to fully face Oscar. His jaw was set, his face a pale white, and his eyes were wide. His entire body was still, unmoving. That gaze he held was sharp, feral, almost like a wild’s animal, the red of his irises practically glowing. He resembled a cat, locking still and ready to pounce.

Oscar swallowed hard. “I-I think--”

“What do you mean you think?” Qrow growled. His nose scrunched up, and his lip curled up in a snarl. Everything about him in that moment seemed bestial, as if he would lunge at the first opportunity.

“Just, let me explain!” Oscar demanded, motioning his hands towards Qrow in an effort to quell his anger. “Just--please!”

“Let’s hear what he has to say.” Ruby offered softly, looking sadly to her uncle.

Qrow quieted down, but his harsh glare remained trained upon Oscar.

“I...I heard something. Something from Ozpin.” Oscar began. “During that battle, Ozpin spoke to me again. After...after James shot me in the chamber. He spoke to me, and I...I finally unlocked his magic. At least, some of it. I don’t know if he gave it to me, or if I managed to figure it out on my own, or what…but I have some of Ozpin’s magic now. Not all of it, but some of it…”

The hand holding onto the staff tightened, squeezed tightly. Slowly the gears spun, as if reacting to his words and his movements. A soft inhale, and he continued.

“A lot of Ozpin’s magic revolves around...around time. Moving yourself quickly, slowing down everything around you...he can manipulate time to a degree.” he explained softly. “I...I think...with the magic that I have...that I can turn back time to before all of this went south.”

“You...you can turn back time?” Nora spoke up, breathing out slowly.

“I-I think I can!” Oscar quickly clarified. “It’s, uh...it’s hard to explain, but I think I know how to do this.” 

“And you’re only just telling us now?!” Qrow finally roared. He lunged forward, surging and springing from gangling limbs off the corner he was tucked in. He let out an angered howl, rushing to grab for Oscar. 

“Uncle Qrow!” Yang cried.

In an immediate response, Yang and Jaune quickly scrambled up to try and hold him back. Nora and Penny stood to offer a wall between him and Oscar, prepared to defend if necessary. 

“Easy, easy!” Jaune snapped.

Yang and Jaune’s arms wrapped around Qrow’s shoulders, ignoring how he clawed at them and tried to break free. Quickly they both used their weights, and even with Yang only having one arm, they were both able to force Qrow to sit back down by the window. 

Qrow growled as he fell back roughly on the metal, hissing a brief moment. His eyes narrowed, glaring back over at Oscar as he hunched forward, prepared to strike again if provoked. Yang and Jaunne both hovered over him again. They panted hard from the effort, their wheezes echoing in the small ship.

“Uncle Qrow…” Ruby whispered, watching him sadly. Very slowly, she scooted across the bench she was sitting on, and reached a hand out to touch him. Her hand rested on his knee, and the action was enough to startle him. He gasped briefly, blinking in alarm, before his shoulders finally slackened a bit. “Let’s...let’s listen to what he has to say, ok? Please.”

She kept her hand there, giving his thigh a small squeeze. Reluctantly, Qrow leaned back against the wall of the ship, grunting softly in displeasure. Wordlessly he nodded, but kept his wild eyes trained upon Oscar.

The air in the ship was tense, and briefly Oscar was too scared to speak up again. He cowered on himself, holding the staff close to his body, instead meeting Qrow’s eyes. The huntsman’s gaze reeked of betrayal and lack of trust, still lingering from the reveal so many weeks ago. It was not aimed at him personally, Oscar knew that, but rather, his former life. There was nothing that could be done for that, not now. Not when a solution was on the horizon.

He swallowed harshly, muttering a few words under his breath. A practiced mantra, until after a beat, he regained his confidence to continue speaking.

“If...if this works...then...we can go back in time.” Oscar breathed out. “It’s not a large amount of time. And I only have enough magic to do it once. But...we can go back in time twelve hours from now. It would be like...our aura, our souls that transfer back. We’d go back to wherever our bodies were at that time. Twelve hours in the past. That’s...that’s what I remember. Or at least, what Ozpin told me. I don’t know. But, either way… That would give us another chance to prevent this from happening.”

“Y-You mean we can go back in time if this works?” Weiss repeated breathlessly.

“Yeah.” Oscar nodded. “That’s what I think I’m getting at of Ozpin’s magic. It’s...we can only do it once. We can’t do it over and over. We only have one chance...that’s how much magic that it’ll allow.”

“Why are we only finding out about this now?” Ren questioned from where he still sat on the bench, hunching over closely to Oscar with a hand on stormflower. “Couldn’t Ozpin had done this at any other time before?”

“I...I think it uses up a lot of magic. Or energy. I’m not sure.” he admitted. “It’s...its’ been decades since he’s last done this. I remember that much, I think. Yeah. It’s something that he only uses if its dire...”

“Well, this certainly fits the bill as dire.” Nora muttered bitterly, gripping magnhild tightly.

“You said twelve hours…” Blake muttered, her eyes narrowing. “Twelve hours from now...when was that? What time is it now, even?”

“It’s three fifty seven pm.” Penny confirmed quickly, turning her head to glance back to them.

“Ok. Four pm. Right. So we’d be going back to...Four am.” Blake nodded. “Four in the morning. That was…”

“We were fighting the Ace-Ops, I think.” Ruby spoke up. “Yeah. The sun was rising, I remember. So four in the morning is right around sunrise. So we’d be back where we were at four in the morning?”

“That’s right.” Oscar confirmed. “Wherever you all were at that time, that’s where you’d go. Twelve hours back from whenever I start the spell.”

“Sunrise, sunrise...that was when we lost the lamp!” Nora gasped. “So we have a chance to get it back!”

“You’re right.” Ren realized with a spooked blink.

“So if we were with the Ace-Ops, and they were with the lamp…” Weiss tried to put everything together in her head, her brow furrowing.

“I must’ve been with Winter and the winter maiden!” Penny perked up.

“Right, right.” Weiss nodded. “You were with my sister--so that also means that we’d be able to save her!” 

“We could save everyone now!” Blake laughed weakly. “If we were with the Ace-Ops, maybe we can get them on our side somehow. You guys were with the lamp, we can prevent it from being stolen again. And we can protect the maiden.”

“Yeah.” Ruby nodded. A quick glance to Qrow, who was now staring back outside the window. “Uncle Qrow. Where...where were you at sunrise?”

Qrow blinked repeatedly, not breaking his stance by the window. He did, however, snort bitterly.

“With Robyn and Clover, trying to bring Tyrian in. Right at sunrise is all when it went to shit.” he grumbled out. He did steal a glance to Ruby, his eyes still glazed over with a rabid, wild energy. “I won’t let it happen again.”

“We won’t let any of this happen again.” Oscar urged. “None of this. We have a second chance, and we’re going to do it right this time. We know what’s going to happen, so we can work around it. We can prevent it from happening. We know Salem is coming, and we know what we did last time to cause this. We just...need to do something different this time.”

“Easier said than done.” Yang muttered.

“But it’s our only option.” Weiss reminded gently. “We have to do this. If we want to save everyone, this is our only choice…”

A silence overtook the room, the words slowly settling in. There was another chance--another hope at saving those who were lost.


	2. Chapter 2

Qrow puffed out a quick breath of air, fogging up the window he was huddled against further. The low drone of the children talking, discussing, was but a dull buzzing in the back of his head. He had no need to get involved in any of their scheming; it was up to them to do this, after all. They were the new generation, he was but the old hack that got left behind. Somehow, some way, still alive in this damned world.

His forehead rested against the cool glass, able to feel the vibrations from the plane hovering overhead. It wouldn’t be long now until they ran out of fuel. There wasn't much time left. If they didn’t do this silly plan soon, it would all be for naught. This was their last option, after all. If it even worked--could this kid really pull off doing such a powerful spell that Ozpin had at one point? That he himself hadn’t seen Ozpin perform in the over twenty years he remained loyal to him?

Strangely, Qrow didn’t seem to care too much. There wasn’t a sense of urgency or panic, but instead, a quiet sadness that lingered like a heavy cloud in his chest. A strange emotion that weighed him down, could not convince him to stand up and plan with the children. No, all he could do was stare out at the crater before them.

That was three people that were dead now because of him. Summer. Clover. James. They were dead. He had failed them, his bad luck sentencing them to an early grave. What made them think that they could do this successfully with him involved? He was a Harbinger, he was a cursed demon. Just being near him stirred for bad luck. Him being involved with this operation just meant it was doomed to fail. Perhaps he should just depart now…

The window cracked just a bit within the center, only enough for Qrow to notice. His eyes flickered to the crack, staring at it emotionlessly. He reached up, dragging his nails along the edge of the cracked glass. With a twitch of his index finger, his nail further dug in, easily creating another web of cracks. 

Qrow blinked slowly, bringing his hand down from the cracked window. His head tilted, staring back at the window. Through the glass, he could see not only the crater, but a reflection that wasn’t his own. He didn’t seem phased, gazing at the dark figure with his own glowing red eyes looming in his place, before looking back at the sight outside.

Past the window, the crater loomed ominously. A massive hole, stretching for miles in either directly, filled with a black abyss. The earth itself was cracked and crushed open, crumbling and falling into itself. As if it were nothing, crumbling just like a dried loaf of bread in someone’s fist would. Even with the rushing water from the ocean beneath them spilling into the hole, it did little to conceal or feel it. The crater was a blemish on the world, with a darkness that seemed never ending. Everything was still, quiet, like the world had come to a stop. The water made no noise, the crumbling earth made not a sound. Nothing remained of Atlas and Mantle, nothing but the crater before them.

==

  
  
  


“Ok, do we have the plan down?” Ruby looked to everyone around her, all standing and waiting. Next to her stood Oscar, gripping tightly to his staff, his head bowed forward. His breathing was hard and heavy, looking to be preparing himself emotionally and physically for the spell ahead. The rest of them had formed a circle; Nora, Ren and Jaune on Oscar’s side, Weiss, Blake, Yang, and Penny on Ruby’s side, and Qrow meeting the two groups at the other end opposing Oscar.

“Let’s go through it one more time.” Jaune decided with a nod. He staggered his legs, crossing his arms with a tightly knit pout. “Nora, Ren, Oscar and I are going to end up right before Neo took the lamp. Or, right during it. We know that she’s going to disguise as someone else and sneak off, and that the first Oscar we see is not him, but her. We need to prevent her from escaping, or at least, if she does get away, make sure she doesn’t have the lamp.”

“Protecting the lamp is our main priority and our mission.” Ren reminded Jaune. “Neo escaping isn’t the best case, but it’s better than if she leaves again with the lamp.”

“Right.” Nora nodded. “We do whatever we can to get that lamp back.”

Jaune looked back to the girls, signalling for them to go ahead.

“We’ll be back in General Ironwood’s office with the Ace-Ops.” Weiss picked up, looking at her teammates. “Ruby, Yang, Blake, and I. Right around the time that he declares martial law and has us to be arrested on sight. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” Blake confirmed. “Our job is to lead the Ace-Ops out of the office somehow and towards the shipping docks on the East side of Atlas. If we can’t convince them, then maybe seeing that giant grimm coming from that direction will convince them.”

“Why the East side?” Yang questioned.

“Did you forget already?” Weiss sighed with a roll of her eyes. “The East is the direction that Salem came from on her whale. That's where we need to mobilize and be ready to defend. We know Salem is coming, and where she’s going to attack first. So we need to jump on that opportunity.”

“Ohh, right.” Yang nodded with a nervous laugh. “By bringing the Ace-Ops to that side, they’ll see the danger--”

“--so even if they don’t believe us, they’ll at least see that there’s a bigger threat.” Blake finished with a smirk.

“Right!” Ruby nodded a few times. “Ok, ok. Penny, do you know what to do?”

“Yes!” the android piped up from next to Qrow, who glanced down at her with a raised eyebrow. “My job is to protect the winter maiden, including protecting her powers and preventing Cinder from getting them.”

“So, basically what you did before.” Jaune pointed out.

“Oh. I suppose so.” Penny frowned worriedly. “I really do not want to live through this again...that was not a very pleasant time...but if it is my mission to help save everyone, then it is what I will do!”

“You’re not alone, Penny. We’re all in this together.” Ruby reminded her softly. She finally looked to her uncle standing across from her, smiling sadly towards him. Gingerly she shifted her feet, hoping that he would meet her gaze. He only continued to stare blankly ahead, staring down at the floor between all of them intently. “Uncle Qrow…?”

“I’ll let Clover arrest me.” Qrow began, sniffing harshly at the comment. He rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand, brow furrowing. “Whole thing escalated after the order was sent out for my arrest. I’ll let him bring me in. Not exactly the best opportunity, but trying to talk him out of arresting me only instigated that entire mess. By that time, Salem should be coming. And hopefully that’ll knock some sense into him.”

“Right.” Ruby reluctantly nodded. Something about Qrow just...seemed off. He was clearly rattled from everything that happened, but he seemed almost...bitter, angry. They were all upset, sure, but Qrow was lost and distant. She hoped that this was just him being determined for this mission and what was at stake, but she couldn’t help but recall what she thought earlier. Qrow was fumbling, as if he had lost his mind over all this grief. There was nothing that could be done for it right now. She could only pray, and hope that this wouldn’t interfere with their plans. They needed all of their cooperation for this to work…

“Wait.” Nora spoke up, raising her hand quickly. “Hold on. What about General Ironwood? That’s our big hurdle, remember? He’s not going to help us. Especially if what you were telling us about his declaring martial law is true--”

“Don’t worry about James.” Qrow cut in. He sniffed again, tilting his head up to finally look at them. Fixating his gaze on Oscar, he set his jaw again, his hands curling into tight fists. “I’ll take care of him. I’ll bring him back.”

“Are you sure?” Yang questioned, looking to him worriedly. “You, uh, seem a bit--”

“No one else can do it.” Qrow turned to glare at his other niece. “You’re all busy halfway across the city. Oscar tried to do it and he got shot. I’m the only one that has even a sliver of a chance of making this work. Clover arrests me, he’ll have to bring me back to James. I’m the only one that can do this.”

Yang opened her mouth to object, but finally closed it. There was a desperation in Qrow’s actions, a plea in his eyes. Those eyes...they glowed, very much like her own did when activating her semblance. There was something off about Qrow. He seemed almost...unhinged, wild and filled with a panic to succeed. But, unfortunately, she had nothing to retort to him. He was right, even in that state of chaos. He was the only one who even had a chance to speak to General Ironwood, especially after how he reacted to Oscar. Could Qrow even handle such a delicate situation…? He seemed sure of himself, but Yang harbored her own doubts.

“How do you know that you won’t just get shot like Oscar?” Yang pointed out suddenly. “Do you know what to--”

“I’ve known Jimmy for too many years.” Qrow cut in, staring Yang down. “I know how he ticks. I can talk to him more than any of you can. I know how to get him to cut the shit and get his act together. He needs someone to get him to see what matters, and I’m not afraid to hold back.”

Yang didn’t say a word of rebuttal, instead setting her jaw. There wasn’t anything that she could say to try to change his mind. And really, he was the only one physically able to come face to face with General Ironwood.

“Then that covers it.” Blake interrupted Yang’s thoughts. Her hand gently slid across her lower back, offering a reassuring smile to her partner. 

“Everyone has their own jobs to do. We all have something that we need to work towards. We all know what we need to do to succeed.” Ruby nodded. She took in a harsh, shaking breath that rattled her chest, stealing a look to where Oscar was still beside her. “I think...I think we’re ready.”

The young boy’s eyes fluttered open, a faint glow to his own irises. It’s faint light mimicked the look Qrow had before, Ruby noted, but found little time to point out the fact. 

Slowly, Oscar nodded in acknowledgement, pulling the staff away from him to point out instead towards the floor between them. His own air was sucked into his tight lungs, and he looked back to the others.

“Ok.” he nodded. “Remember. We only have one shot at this. Twelve hours in the past. We need to make it count.”

He waited for all of them to nod in affirmation, before continuing.

“Everyone, hold onto each other. I’m going to set the glyph between us. I’ll charge it with magic, and then it’ll send all of us back to our bodies twelve hours in the past. We’re going to be the only ones that know what happened, what is to happen, and how we got in the past. No one else will know. And no one can find out, ok? It may mess up the uh...timeline, or something…? I don’t understand it, but just don’t do it.”

Another nod from all of them.

“Ok…then let's begin.”

As the tip of the staff was pointed down, a large forest green glyph appeared. The diameter reached under all of their feet, glowing and rotating with a constant motion. Inside the magical circle the pattern of clockwork and gears blossomed from the center. The gears spun carefully, ticking with a momentum and a rhythm as it was charged with magic. Within it, a powerful force swelled, a force that was palpable to the others and threatened to push them back away from it. Something that was thick, like a heavy gust of wind generating from how hard the gears were turning.

  
  


Oscar’s arms twitched, his form staggering as he struggled to keep the staff pointed in place. Quickly, Ruby and Jaune held onto him, trying to assist in keeping him grounded. One by one, all of them grasped onto one another, following Oscar’s direction and, in a way, hoping that their own involvement would help the spell stabilize.

The magic kicked up, blowing another gust of magical energy around towards them. The glyph continued to grow, wildly pulsating as the gears clicked and moved like a ticking of a clock. It was as if it struggled to contain its own magic, twitching and flailing wildly underneath them. Magic crackled and snapped off of Oscar’s staff, and soon, bubbled off of his own form. Dark green crackles of magical energy bounced off of him and into the sigil beneath him.

“Hold on--!”

In a sudden flash, the magic surged into an explosion of light, consuming all of them in an instant.

==

“...you heard the general.”

Ruby groaned, squinting at the sudden return to consciousness. Her vision swam, overwhelmed with a strange sense of confusion and disorientation. Her hands fell forward, touching the cool metal of the desk before her. Voices were heard, muttering, speaking, and as she lifted her head, she could see four figures standing before her in white.

Wait. White.

“...you’re not going anywhere. Until we get this sorted out, you’re under arrest.” Harriet spoke, reaching for the button on the console she held. The lights flashed an ominous red, and slowly, the General’s headquarters were locked down. A resounding slam as each panel came down, locking the doors and barricading the windows behind them.

Ruby’s eyes snapped open, staring back at the Ace-Ops. Before her, the rest of her team slowly came to, looking between her and the enemy. It only took an instant to realize where they were, or rather, when they were. They all shared a brief glance, a silent conversation that, indeed, holy shit, this actually worked. 

They were back in General Ironwood’s office, back before they took down the Ace-Ops.

“Please. Don’t make this difficult.” Vine requested, taking a slow step forward with his hand raised in an attempt of a peaceful gesture. 

They had another chance. They could do this.

Blake and Weiss tore their attention away from Ruby to look back at the Ace-Ops. The soldier’s before them took the offensive immediately, metal clanging and fitting into place as they prepared their weapons. Each girl took a half step back towards the desk defensively, glancing back to Ruby to wait for a signal. Yang took the opportunity to glance back at her returned prosthetic at her side, and snickered softly to herself.

“Wait, wait! We’re not going to slug this out, are we?” Marrow quickly questioned, looking frantically at his own team.

“We’re not doing anything.” Harriet reassured him, despite her gauntlets loaded up. “We let them decide.”

One chance. They only had one chance.

In a sudden burst of rose petals, Ruby tore back away from everyone. She crashed into one of the barricaded windows, the force of her semblance and speed causing it to explode in a shower of metal shards and glass. It forced open a hole into the window, leaving behind a rain of petals.

“Guess that’s our signal!” Yang hollered, quickly running after her. She avoided a series of gunshots, running beside Blake. The two hopped out through the same hole, falling out from the tall tower high above Atlas. Behind them, Weiss came rushing out, hopping from glyph to glyph to follow. Up ahead, a blur of red could be seen, Ruby rushing towards the Eastern shipping dock.


	3. Chapter 3

Qrow was consumed by the searing light, so harsh and so bright he swore that it ate through his flesh. It was sudden, as if a bomb went off at his feet. The magic circle had spasmed and spun rapidly in front of his face, and then just as soon as it began to swell with power, the explosion blasted into his eyes. And in those moments following, he swore that he was dead. That instead of Oscar sending them back in time, he had instead sent them to their early graves. It wouldn’t be the worst way to go out, if he were to admit it.

He felt as if he were floating. All he could see was painfully hot white, his ears ringing, and his body aching. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t feel anything except that scorching pain that ran through his blood. Scalding magma searing his nerves, heart pounding against a bed of needles--had Oscar’s magic burned through to his very core?

Qrow’s hearing returned first.

Past the high pitched ringing tearing at his eardrums, he could hear...a muffled noise. Was it a voice? No, it was multiple voices...speaking to him through cotton in his ears. Yes, someone was speaking directly to him. It was able to drag him out of his state, yanking him back to the world of consciousness.

“Declaring...law--? --can’t...do this!”

“Miss Hill...general...enormity of the situation--”

A high pitched beep succeeded in finally bringing him back wholly. Very slowly and with a groan, he forced his eyes open. His vision gradually seeped back in, coming in blurry splotches to show bits and pieces of the picture before him. Two bodies sat across from him, and out of the corner, someone else was sitting beside him.

That ringing in his ears...no, that was the hum of the engine. That floating feeling was not vertigo, but rather, the motions of the aircraft he was on. Yet, from the chill that permeated the glass windows and the metal bench he sat on, he could tell this was not the ship he was just in. If this wasn't his body revolting against the magical circuits, then--

The figure before him stood just as his vision cleared up a bit. Qrow’s head tilted back, struggling to recalibrate his senses. Gods. Everything still burned and ached...where the hell was he…? Felt like he was on a ship again...did they all just get knocked out after Oscar’s spell? Was he just only waking up now, potentially hours later? Did they screw up?

“Qrow--I hope you know, I’ve been asked to bring you in.”

Those words were the final key. With a start, Qrow gasped, sitting at attention. His eyesight fully cleared up, and with a frantic look, he tilted his head up towards the source of the voice before him. Standing with a somber, regretful look was a man, a man that at the simple sight made his heart twist.

Clover Ebi.

A soft choking noise left Qrow’s throat, his mouth growing dry. It was indeed Clover. The man was alive and well, standing before him. Solid, full, grounded...Clover was alive. He wasn’t lying in a pool of his own blood among the ice and snow in the tundra. He was whole, he was unharmed, and he was breathing before him. This felt like a dream, Qrow thought, staring up at him with a dumbstruck expression. It took all of Qrow’s strength to not rush to his feet and grab him--the only thing stopping him was the Ace-ops' hand resting on the handcuffs on his belt and that was enough for him to remember the situation. 

“I want you to know, I have an order for Team RWBY’s arrest as well.”

Shit. Oscar’s little plan actually worked. It was a second chance. Unless he had actually been killed, and he was only dreaming, then well...once again, wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Although if so, the circumstances could’ve been better. Having the man he cared about at his throat wasn’t exactly a pleasant situation.

“He’s trying to get rid of anyone who gets in the way of his inhumane plan!”

Oh, right.

Qrow watched in alarm when Robyn suddenly stood. She'd been here too, hadn't she? How had he forgotten? She took a step towards Clover, eying him dangerously. And as she reached for her crossbow, Qrow instantly remembered what had led to the unfortunate events. It was not as he recalled before, that it was simply him refusing to be arrested...Robyn Hill had escalated the situation. What he assumed was an easy, simple plan suddenly had a myriad of complications. How had he forgotten about her so easily? How foolish of him to only remember him and Clover trapped here.

“Looks like he underestimated me, again!”

Alright. He had to do something, fast, before this entire plan was wasted. One shot, that’s all he had, one shot--! One chance!

In an instant Qrow was on his feet, slipping between Robyn and Clover. He kept his back to her, ignoring her indignant cry of alarm, and instead stared right at Clover. His gaze remained even, scorching red eyes pinned upon Clover’s deep green. Every single inhibition and impulse was stifled down, instead keeping a solid gaze upon his face. Clover's face flickered in brief surprise. Yet his expression melted back to the stoic, stern look. He looked older in those moments, Qrow noted, tracing the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth with his own eyes.

Somehow, Qrow's chest felt tight, and he found that he couldn’t breathe for a moment. Was this...was this fear? Grie? Desperation? Gods, he was too terrified to move.

“It’s taking a very long time for this show to get to the good part.” Tyrian growled softly from where he was still restrained on the bench.

Like a trigger, Qrow finally reacted again. His eyes opened wider briefly, snapping back to Tyrian, then to Clover once more. All of the pieces finally clicked fully into place. The good part...right. That was when things went to shit. Alright. Now was as good of a time as any.

Qrow suddenly thrust his arms forward, holding his wrists together towards Clover. That gaze remained steady, unblinking, locked with Clover's. If it took him getting arrested for all of this shit to blow over, then that was what he would do. Anything to de-escalate the situation. He’d do anything at this point. He couldn’t have this opportunity wasted. Even if he had to rot in a cell while James went absolutely batshit...if it meant Clover wouldn’t be flayed, then it was a sacrifice to make. Perhaps Clover could make it through to James in his stead.

No, that wasn't true. James was next on his hit list. He had to succeed here first, but James was next. He had to be the one to bring James back.

“Go on, then.” Qrow finally spoke up when Clover didn’t make a move. It seemed the huntsman willingly giving in had surprised even the leader of the Ace-Ops. The startled look upon Clover’s face was enough to make him smirk, despite the situation.

“I...wasn’t expecting you to--”

“To come quietly? Nah. I’m getting too old to be starting fights. Not as young as I used to be.” he shrugged off easily. “Now, come on. You say you have a warrant out for my arrest? Do it, then. Then I have an excuse to see the jailer personally. Been wanting to have a heart to heart conversation with him for awhile now.”

“You’re just going to let him arrest you?” Robyn snapped, trying to sidestep to get to the flank of the two men. “He has no reason to! This is just him following Ironwood’s crazy orders! That man's deranged; he’s a lunatic!”

“Hey, hey.” Qrow sneered. “Go on, sit back down. I know what I’m doing here. Better to just play along for now, instead of causing even more of a ruckus. You really want to start a fight in a plane tens of thousands of feet in the air?”

Robyn reluctantly snorted, keeping her eyes narrowed. With a moment’s hesitation she stepped back away from Qrow, lowering her weapon back down to her side. She didn’t stand down fully, however. Instead she stood behind Qrow to watch Clover intensely.

Once Robyn lowered her weapon, Qrow sighed audibly. Perhaps things could go his way, finally. He just needed to be restrained, tied up, arrested, brought in, whatever. Brought back to Atlas, where he could hopefully talk to James before Salem arrived. Even if Clover wouldn’t take him to James, he was sure he could break out of these restraints. If he had to bring out brute force, he’d do so. So long as he knew Clover was safe. That was the only goal floating around his skull in that moment. He wouldn't let Clover perish like he did last time. He knew what was to happen--he could prevent it.

“Alright.” Clover exhaled. 

He reached behind him, pulling the handcuffs off of his belt. They were placed over Qrow's offered wrists before him. With a resounding snap, the dust wires wrapped around the metal placed on his wrists, tightening its hold to keep both hands pressed firmly in front of him. Qrow looked down at the handcuffs, and tested the hold with a gentle tug. They had no give, no leeway, and instead held his wrists almost painfully tight against each other. Ok, maybe he couldn’t as easily break out of them as he thought originally. But if push came to shove…

This was working, though. This was actually working. Time was flowing differently, now. Qrow was not currently fighting Clover in the plane, they weren’t barrelling back down to Remnant...perhaps things were actually going for the better this time?

“Surprise you didn’t take the chance right away to have me tied up.” Qrow teased with a playful wink. The remark was enough for Clover to let out a pleased rumbling chuckle and Robyn to roll her eyes--enough to lighten the mood. They hadn’t caught onto the catch in his throat or the ring of desperation in his words, however. They didn't need to.

“You’re just going to give in, Princeling?” Tyrian spoke up suddenly, bent over low from where he still sat on the bench. “My, my. I’m awfully surprised. Where’s the vigor? Where’s the animosity? This is just--just miserable! No swinging punches? No attitude? No--no nothing? How long do I have to wait for some sort of excitement?!”

That word snapped in Qrow’s head, and he turned his attention towards Tyrian. His eyes briefly glowed that ominous red once more, but like a dim candle, it went out in an unassuming flicker. Tyrian kept his gaze even with Qrow, a lazy, knowing smirk upon his features. With a tilt of his head, he didn’t blink, perhaps challenging him to bring it to attention. Qrow reluctantly backed down, however, turning his head away from his hounding glare.

How did Tyrian know…?

Clover tilted his head with a very slight motion, catching Tyrian out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t say anything, but the word hadn’t gone unnoticed, Qrow realized. That dread and fear swelled back up within him, so heavy and consuming the air was forced out of his lungs.

“We’re heading back to Atlas.” Clover announced. A hand was placed on Qrow’s shoulders, gingerly leading him back to the benches. Qrow followed wordlessly, sitting down where he was led to. He didn’t cower or sulk, however, instead looking up to watch Clover breathlessly. A almost hopeful, joyous expression slipped into place once he got a good look at Clover. Rather mimicked the excitement a dog held upon seeing its owner. He still couldn’t catch his breath yet, but just seeing Clover was enough to soothe some of that panic.

Clover’s scroll was pulled out, quickly sending a message back to headquarters. He remained standing beside Qrow, his back to Tyrian and to Robyn, who had now begrudgingly sat across from the two huntsmen. His leg settled between Qrow’s, knee pressed against the bench. It wasn’t a seductive, flirtatious gesture as Qrow originally assumed with a startled squeak--here? Right now?-- but rather, something solid for him to brace on as the plane turned. He realized that when the plane made a rather harsh turn and his butt began to slide across the metal bench in time with it. Hard enough to remain stable without use of arms, but rather easy to at least get his fingers in a loop on his pants and to hook his legs around his. Better that sliding and crashing right into the floor.

Qrow was all too eager to hold onto him, taking in ragged, shaking breaths. Everything else seemed to fade away for a brief moment of reprieve. He didn't have to think of the terrible alternate outcome, but instead, the present before him. Clover was solid beneath his touch. Steady, powerful. He could feel the warmth coming off of him in rolling waves, sinking into his own skin. Clover was so close to him now, that he was worried the other could hear his pounding heart. In another time, they had been fighting to the death, with one claimed as the victor and the other brought down as the loser. Clover, not even twelve hours ago, was cold and dead in his arms. Now he stood, warm and safe beside him. Qrow could count his breaths with the way his stomach pooched out and fell back in, and how he could practically hear the air whistling past his lips if he listened hard enough. When had such a sound become the best thing he had ever heard?

Even as his fingers slipped further into Clover’s pocket, he couldn’t help the knot forming in his throat. None of this felt real. Even restrained and willingly arrested, he couldn’t help but be hopeful. Perhaps this plan at least had a shot of working. Despite his bad luck, things had gone smoothly so far. He had gone back in time, back before Clover was killed. Clover was still alive before him, and Clover was still offering a kind gesture in something as simple as pressing his leg against him for support. Something so simple to Clover, yet something that almost broke Qrow.

There was still hope for them.

“Clover…” Qrow began. He hadn’t meant for the word to sound so pitiful, so broken, unable to hide the hitch in his voice this time. His head fell forward, so close to leaning fully against Clover. A soft whimper rumbled from his throat in a vain attempt to hide the swelling tears.

Clover folded his scroll shut, slipping it back in his pocket. He turned his eyes down to Qrow, and he allowed a gentle, graceful smile to blossom upon his face. A quiet hum, and he turned fully to better face the man, still keeping his knee between his lanky legs. One hand pressed against the side of the hull to stabilize himself, the other brushing against Qrow’s shoulder. Touching was a generous word. A restraining brush of fingertips, not wanting to let too much spill before their audience. Enough, however, for Qrow to exhale in relief.

“It’s alright. We’ll figure something out.” Clover offered. “I’m sure the General has a good reason. He...wouldn’t act rashly. I know he wouldn’t. We’ll figure it out once we get back to Atlas.”

His words were so careful, so soothing, so reassuring, Qrow couldn’t help but whimper again. His eyes burned, and he felt the hot tears bite at his eyelids, threatening to spill over. A shaking, wheezing inhale to calm himself down as he let his head fall further forward. It rested against Clover’s abdomen, staring down at the man’s propped leg before him and his clean, pristine boots. Not a scrape of dirt, not a worn thread, not a drop of blood…

Qrow wanted to just stay there. He wanted to rest against Clover, to just feel his presence against him for the rest of the ride home. Merely bask in him. Just forget about his mission for a bit and enjoy himself, enjoy Clover. Damn it all, he felt like such a small child, sitting here on the verge of crying and nestled against one of the few men he found comfort in. Perhaps after this, he could finally tell him how he felt. His fear had held him back this long. Hell, his fear was what led to his death originally. This close to changing that fate had him feeling hopeful again. Could this be more something than a lustful fling, more than a tangle of limbs at night and teasing gestures in the day?

Qrow was so damn tired…

It seemed that he was not allowed to enjoy such things, or perhaps, time would flow in the same direction no matter the interventions. Such hope would always be snatched from Qrow. As the plane suddenly careened off to the side and the rushing wind could be heard rattling the sides of the ship, Qrow knew that his feeble attempt was set right back on the original track.

Qrow slid further down the bench, and he desperately tried to hold onto Clover. Clover tried to steady himself, putting both hands now on the side on the hull to look towards the cockpit. With a sudden shout, Clover tore from Qrow’s side. Before Qrow could get to his feet to follow, the plane suddenly tipped further down. Qrow howled, sliding right off the bench and onto the floor. He hit the floor hard, his head smacking against it with a rattle. A pained wheeze squeezed out as white spots dotted his vision. Before he could recover, the plane tilted hard in the opposite direction during the nose dive. Like a discarded toy, he slid along the floor to crash into the opposing wall, landing right by Robyn’s shaking legs.

His eyes forced open past the pain, hissing briefly with effort. The restraints still held tight to his wrists, and when he tried to yank them off, they didn’t move. Of course. He gave another attempt, growling hard as his aura flickered with his jerking arms, but they still did not loosen. Even as he could feel his bones crack and skin break from his violent yanking, the metal and dust wires held firm. A panic settled into Qrow’s chest.

No, no, no.

Out of the corner of his eye, Clover was seen standing just outside the cockpit. He shouted something unintelligible above the shrieking wind and howling alarms from the plane’s console, something Qrow couldn’t hear from where he lay beneath the bench. With a dry heave, he squirmed and scrambled to try to get back to his feet and help. Yet through the fog, he couldn’t manage to get his limbs to work as he needed. He squirmed, bucking his legs against the wall and twisting to get back to his knees. Just as he was about to worm out from under the bench, Robyn's foot kicked him suddenly on the side of the face. She shouted something intelligible, before she too stood to go offer help. With that, he was on the floor again. That ringing in his ears returned.

Clover’s body glowed suddenly, grabbing Qrow's attention. He tilted his head, peering out from where he had slipped under the bench. He watched as his thumb swiped against his pin in a movement that left him curious. Clover moved, rushing towards the front of the ship as his aura flickered out just as quickly as it appeared.

What was that…? What did he just do?

“--all for my queen!”

Ah. Wait. Shit. That’s right.

Qrow closed his eyes tight, bracing for the inevitable impact. The wind continued to howl and cry, melting with the bells in his ears to create a deafening wail that tangled within his head. He tensed just as the world suddenly exploded in a familiar burst of hot white light, rocketing pain through his veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploaded this one a bit early. Updates may slow down with school approaching. Thank you for the comments and kudos so far. It's been quite awhile since the last time I wrote a long fic, and I appreciate all the support. More chapters are already written, and will be uploaded after they're proofread and edited.


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re late.”

Qrow lifted his head from where he had been gazing at the scroll in his hand. With a press of a button he closed out of Clover’s contact. The man was waiting right there for him, parked outside the capital building and leaning against his personal cruiser. He couldn’t help but smirk at the way that Clover leaned against the passenger side door, his arms crossed against his chest and a coy grin to his face.

“No, I’m on time. Says so on my scroll.” Qrow shot back. He waved the device with a rather grand gesture towards Clover. It incited a cackling laugh from the officer.

“It’s two minutes after eighteen hundred. Sounds late to me.” Clover teased.

“Ugh, don’t give me that bullshit with those fake numbers. Can’t you just tell time like a normal fucking person?” Qrow groaned. As he spoke he began to descend the ornate stairs leading back down to the street. His hands slid into his pockets smoothly, taking his sweet time in joining Clover.

“What? Are you too stupid to count or something?” Clover responded with a pleasant smile. He pushed off of the car as Qrow stepped onto the sidewalk and approached him. His arms slid back to his sides as he took a step away from the vehicle to let Qrow access the door.

“No, I’m just not a military brat like you.” Qrow smirked. He crossed the last length in one stride, sliding right up next to Clover. That playful smile remained, standing close to the other man. His hand rested on the doorhandle, but he didn’t make a move to open it just yet.

“That so? Figured you were from how close you and James are. I didn’t think he’d be into the rebellious free spirited type.” Clover scoffed, causing Qrow to cackle.

“That’s what you think I am?”

“Well, you certainly don’t look like you’ve even spent a day in bootcamp.” Clover shrugged.

“You don’t look like you have either, pal.” Qrow remarked with a playful wink. That seemed to catch Clover off guard. The officer raised both eyebrows while gesturing to himself with a mock-wounded expression.

“What do you mean--hey!”

Qrow pulled open the car door, sliding into the passenger seat. Just before closing the door, he waved a hand dismissively towards him. Clover’s cheeks flushed a harsh red, inching up to his ears. He grumbled and huffed to himself, pressing a hard palm on his cheek to try to dismiss the harsh red. Quickly he bounded around the back of the car towards the driver’s seat, and with that same desperation, scrambled inside. The door was pulled shut with a resounding slam, keeping both men inside.

Qrow slowly stretched out his legs with a lazy sigh, allowing himself to get comfortable. The engine rumbled once Clover turned on the ignition and the heat blasted from the vents. Least he was done for the day now--

“You don’t think I look like the poster boy for a soldier?” Clover spoke up, flashing his winning smile. Yet, Qrow could almost see a strange emotion that flickered in his gaze. It was enough that he pulled himself up straighter in his seat to see better, but upon further insight it was gone. Perhaps Clover was just tired, he deduced.

“Course I don’t.” Qrow shrugged. “Wearing a tank top in the damn tundra, showing off whenever you kill a grimm, and having absolutely no filter on your words--”

“You’re one to talk.”

“You’re the one that asked me!”

Clover snickered softly at the retort.

“But, hey. I think that’s what Atlas needs--Jimmy too. Sometimes he gets too stuffy and can’t shake the stick out of his ass. You’re, well…” Qrow hummed. His tongue glazed his lips, eyes flitting up to the roof of the car as he thought. “Hm. You’re different, but in a good way. You got some humanity left in you, and you don’t just blindly follow orders. Maybe its that good luck of yours that made you so cocky. But, yeah, again, James needs someone like that around, I think.”

“That so?” Clover questioned. His left hand rested on the steering wheel, fingers slowly curling around it as his other hand moved to the gear shift. Removing his gaze from Qrow, he instead looked out the frosty windows out into the streets. He suddenly seemed invested in a woman crossing the street with her child.

“You’re the one that brought it up.” Qrow sighed. He returned to his reclining position, folding his hands against his stomach while propping his feet up on the dashboard. Just before he could rest his heels on the dash, Clover’s arm swiped out, knocking them back on the ground. Qrow jumped in mild surprise, looking just in time to see Clover’s nearly famous smirk.

“Even if I don’t look like a stuffy general doesn’t mean I want your filthy boots on my dashboard.” Clover teased. He winked as he pulled the gearshift back. The car lurched to life, slowly rolling forward and out of the parking spot.

“Just take me to dinner already. Some people work all day keeping the arena safe while you sit and have coffee.” Qrow sneered.

“Ohhh, don’t start a fight you can’t win.” Clover tsk’d. 

Effortlessly, he pulled out and merged into traffic, driving out onto the road. Yet, as they pulled up to a red light, Clover suddenly reached out to Qrow. He slipped his hand against his cheek, tangling in his black locks. With a sharp tug, he pulled Qrow’s head over to him to smash his lips against his in a sudden forceful kiss.

==

Against the cold bitter wind biting at Qrow’s flesh, he felt the burning hot pain bubbling under his skin. Each breath felt as if he were inhaling needles, and his head felt as if he were swimming. For a moment, he refused to move, or rather, he couldn’t move. Everything ached too much. Ugh. Any leftover pleasantries he felt from the dream had disappeared, melting away to expose a painfully sore body. Oh how nice it would’ve been to relive that moment with Clover. A brief thought flashed through his skull, that perhaps he could just go right back to sleep...sleep away the pain and the discomfort in his blood. Maybe he was just wore down from their battles earlier in the day…

“Qrow! Wake up!”

The hands pressed firmly into his side and shook him. The sudden force was enough for him to snap his eyes open and to gasp with a sharp agony. At first, he couldn’t see anything, his vision blurred over and his attention focused on getting air to his burning lungs. His ribs crunched with the frantic wheezes that spilled from his lips. Dammit. Yeah. He broke something from that crash.

His shoulders ached terribly, and he made a feeble attempt to pull his arms forward. Only...his arms didn’t move. Couldn’t move. They were restrained in front of him; he was aware now of the pain in his wrists and his now crunched fingers.

Slowly his vision returned when he was shoved again. He was rolled onto his back with his bound wrists resting lightly on his stomach. Past the harsh white of the snow and the metal reflecting the sun, he could see Robyn hovering over him. Her attractive face was knit together in worry, frantically looking over the huntsman laying before her.

“Are you alright?” She questioned, leaning over to further gaze down at his face. “Come on. Wake up. We have to get out of here.”

“Wh...What?” Qrow groaned, gritting his teeth briefly. He stirred, bringing one of his legs up to try to roll into a sitting position. However, he only succeeded in aggravating his broken ribs. A pained hiss was heard, those skinny legs trembling as he desperately tried to keep the momentum going. Robyn’s hands hovered over him, too nervous about touching him again despite her previously rough treatment to him.

With a great deal of effort he was finally able to sit up. His head bowed forward with a wheeze with his hands resting now in his lap. Exhaustion and confusion dragged across his face as he finally returned fully to consciousness. 

They sat in the wreckage of the ship they were only just previously in. The hull was ripped and cracked open, one of the wings lodged in the snow a few feet away. Distantly he could hear the dull crackle of fire and torn electronics, likely rumbling within the engine towards the front of the wreckage. Internal components and parts littered the snowy plains before them, some reflecting the low light of dawn rising above the horizon.

Qrow’s eyes squinted, gazing out towards the rising sun. Perhaps it wasn’t dawn just yet, but barely over towards the mountains in the distance he could make out ribbons of pinks and purples creeping over the edges. Night was set to depart soon. The dawn of a new day was approaching.

It was then that Qrow suddenly recalled what exactly he was doing, and why he was here. A strangled noise was heard ripping through his throat. With a strange panic, he began to look around, searching desperately from where he sat. No, no. Dawn was approaching, the new day was coming. Already? There wasn’t much time! He had to find Clover and get them the hell out of here!

“Clover--” Qrow rasped out, red eyes glazed over with a strange sense of terror. “Clover...Robyn, where’s Clover? Where is he?”

“You’re worried about that traitor?” Robyn hissed, her lip curling in the beginnings of a snarl. “Leave him. We don’t have time to worry about him. We need to get to safety before the Military finds--”

One of the heavy sheets of metal on the other side of the wreckage was suddenly pushed off the heavy pile near the engine. It landed down into the snow with a loud thud. Staggering from the inner shell of the ship, Clover surfaced, stumbling out carefully into the snow banks before them. Ash and a few minor burns tore at his skin, especially on his bare arms and on his face, but his aura was already fast at work repairing the damage. He seemed a bit dazed, taking a few steps out away from the burning engine he was near.

Clover--! Clover was alive. Qrow couldn’t help the soft cry of relief that slipped past his lips. It wasn’t too late, then. He wasn’t dead. He was alive, very much alive. Now he could take Clover and get the hell out of here before something else happened. 

“Clover!” Qrow called, ignoring Robyn’s curse under her breath. A smile blossomed upon his features as he gazed over at Clover. Once again he tried to work his legs underneath him, aiming to stand while his arms still remained pinned. Just like before, it only set his chest on fire and shot pain through his veins. Damned. The travel back through time as well as the crash had knocked everything out of him. He hadn't felt this exhausted in too long.

Clover’s hand rested on his face, letting out a pained groan. Very carefully, his fingers ran through his scorched locks, taking a few shaking steps towards them. As Qrow looked to him, he couldn’t help but catch the exhaustion at his features. It was the first time he had seen the man’s age shining through. The dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, the mused hair, the slow steps forward...Clover hadn’t been in the wreckage last time, he had managed to flee before impact. Now he was just as sore as Qrow felt.

“Shit.” Clover snorted, rubbing at his face hard suddenly. He sniffed, brushing his hair back with a quick motion, and flashed a winning smile over at Qrow. “Good to see you’re alright.”

“Looks like a bit of bad luck, then.” Qrow managed to tease, causing Clover to snort.

“Nah. We’re all alright. I’ll take that as a win in my book.” he snickered.

“Let’s just get out of here already.” Robyn suddenly interjected. Realizing that both of the men were alright, she moved to stand. Even her movements were unsteady, her legs trembling as she staggered up. Qrow watched her from where he remained sitting on the floor. He didn’t make a move to assist, however--from her already soured, distrusting mood, he didn’t want to step on any toes. 

Her scroll was pulled out, surprisingly still intact and working despite the crash. She busied herself with sending a message to one of her contacts, muttering something Qrow couldn’t quite catch. No longer finding her interesting, he gazed back up owlishly towards Clover.

“You still gonna keep me tied up?” he questioned playfully. “I’d prefer if we did this another time, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Clover’s eyes rolled with a flutter of his eyelashes.

“I’ll come with you willingly, if that’s what you’re afraid of.” Qrow offered. “The last thing I want is more trouble, after all of this. Let’s just...get back to Ironwood, and figure this whole mess out.”

“I don’t think that’s a bad idea.” Clover complied. He winced momentarily, rolling his shoulder with a resounding pop. “I think this has been enough of an eventful night.”

“Ya think?” Qrow cackled.

Just as Clover took another step forward with an outstretched arm towards Qrow, a sudden howling laugh tore through the air. A searing cackle, one dripping with a mocking, venomous tone. It grabbed the three huntsmen's attention; the sound wasn’t coming from within the wreckage they were huddled in, but rather, a ways out.

Clover brought his hand back away from Qrow and to where Kingfisher rested at his belt. With a slow movement he stepped out of the wreckage and onto the sheet of ice spreading out for miles ahead. Standing before them was the giggling, gleeful villain of Tyrian. He hunched forward, his robotic stinger curling and uncurling up towards his back as his lips spread in an almost painfully wide grin.

“Well, well! Hate to...crash the party!” Tyrian cackled.

Clover’s eyes narrowed as he realized almost immediately that somehow the faunus got out of his binds. A soft growl of his own in distaste left his lips, and he began to move forward out towards the ice. His boots crunched on the thick layer of snow, leaving footprints that moved away from where Qrow and Robyn still lay among the wreckage.

With a hiss, Qrow tried to roll over again, feeling a panic swelling in his throat. No, no! What was he doing?! They were so close to freedom?! He couldn’t fight Tyrian on his own! No, no, no!

“Shit! Clover! Get the fuck back here!” Qrow snapped. “What are you thinking?! Let’s just go!”

“He needs to be brought in.” Clover replied smoothly. “I don’t intend on stopping short of completing an order.”

The words banged and barrelled around inside of Qrow’s head. His vision swam, and for a moment, he feared that he would pass out once more. Instead, his legs trembled, and he gasped for air as he tried to roll back onto his feet. Completing an order...dammit, why did that sound so damn familiar? Those words he recognized, but not in Clover’s own tone of voice. He suddenly felt like vomiting. That sense of dread returned, crushing his lungs and knotting up his stomach.

Why did he have to have so much in common with him? Why did he view himself walking out onto that ice and towards Tyrian? Why did he, in those moments, understand so well that it made his chest ache so painfully?

His head snapped back up again just in time to see Clover whip the fishing line towards Tyrian. The faunus cackled, hopping up with a push from his tail to allow the hook to crash into the ice. With the sudden burst of air, he fired a few rounds at Clover, who in return reeled the line back and ran in a half circle around back towards Tyrian.

Shit, shit!

Qrow tugged hard at the restraints once more. His wrists cracked painfully, throbbing hard against the metal brackets. After a particularly harsh tug that caused the skin at the base of his thumb knuckle to tear, he let out a pained growl through gashed teeth. Despite how hard he was pulling and yanking, the binds wouldn’t let up. Of course they wouldn’t. These were restraints given to the Ace-Ops, the ones who dealt with high level criminals--they’d been made to not easily be torn apart by angry huntsmen.

“Fuck!” Qrow hissed, hearing the clash of metal as the fighting grew more involved. He stole a glance, watching Clover use the body of kingfisher to block Tyrian’s blades from cutting flesh. They pushed off of each other, rounding around once more to strike again. With a sudden jerk Qrow moved his head back, managing to catch a glance of Robyn out of the corner of his eyes. 

“Hey!” he barked. “Get me out of here! I need to grab him!”

“What?” Robyn stuffed her scroll in her pocket, moving quickly to his side. She knelt down, in the same motion glancing to the scuffle out on the ice, and snorted. Her hands moved to Qrow’s wrists, already trying to tug at the dust cables wrapped around the brackets. “Why would you want to help him? He’s trying to arrest you, you know--I have backup called, we’ll get out of here in a few minutes.”

“I’m not fucking leaving him!” Qrow snapped, wrestling further against the bindings even as Robyn messed with them. His heart pounded so hard, he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. With a desperate look, he glanced back to the fight before them, watching them expertly dodge each other and land blows in retaliation.

Everything was going wrong. Perhaps time wouldn’t leave its track, no matter how much he wanted to change it. Ozpin had mentioned it to him, what felt like a lifetime ago now, after Summer’s destruction and Qrow’s desperation to change what happened. Time would move on its axis, time could not be changed, events that were destined to happen would happen. The journey may change, but the destination would not. It was fate, and fate could not be changed. 

At the time, he found the notion ridiculous. Clearly it was just a vain attempt to soothe his aching emotions before he hurt himself. But now, watching as Clover’s aura flickered at a particularly strong hit to the chest, he realized that Ozpin was right. It wasn’t his actions that felled Clover. Tyrian was the one that did it. Even if that weapon changed, even if he didn’t use Harbinger, he could still kill Clover in other means.

This entire event...it would unfold the same way that it had before. Qrow’s bad luck would of course not offer any sort of opportunity for change. As they each traded blows with each other, one by one, with Robyn having not managed to loosen the shackles yet, Qrow realized that he was fighting a losing battle. His body was sapped of strength from the nonstop experiences of the past twenty four hours and from thrust back into time from Oscar’s magic. He could barely lift his head anymore. He laid there in the snow, helpless, staring at the fight in horror.

He couldn’t watch Clover fall again...he couldn't watch anyone he loved fall again. Not after everything he’d been through. Not after everything he’d lived for. Not after what he’d done.

“Shit.” Robyn’s words echoed dully in the back of his head. “I can’t--they’re jammed! They won’t open!”

As she said that, Tyrian’s stinger suddenly jammed down into the ice between Clover’s feet, narrowly missing him. The floor beneath them suddenly cracked, tearing open to reveal the frigid water below. Clover’s entire body swayed and stumbled, and in a quick motion, he tried to jump out of the way. Yet the sudden shift in weight only caused the newly formed block of ice to further shift. When his feet landed back down, the ice beneath him shattered like glass. There was no time to react, his arms flailing as he fell into the depths of the frigid water below. 

The cracks continued to spread, going across the tundra in wide splitting blemishes. Just as Tyrian turned tail to escape, Clover’s hook suddenly snapped out of the water and onto his boot laces. Despite his floundering in the water, Qrow could see Clover pulling on the wire with all of his strength. The plate of ice Tyrian was standing on tipped over from his weight, tossing him in with Clover.

“No!” Qrow howled, tearing hard at the shackles. They suddenly creaked and the dust wires snapped as his arms beneath them trembled. It was enough for Robyn to startled, letting him go as he thrashed desperately before her.

He struggled to see over the harsh white of the ice, but he could just make out Clover and Tyrian fighting in the waves. The wire from the fishing rod was wound up in Clover’s hands and was pulled back hard against Tyrian’s throat through their scuffle. Within his grip the faunus flailed, howling and spitting past the swirling water they were in. Clover struggled to stay afloat past the scrambling criminal and with both of his hands pulling the wire taut. His head bobbed down a few times as his legs kicked hard, fighting with Tyrian.

Huntsmen in Atlas were trained to use their aura in ways to not be affected by the cold. It allowed them to hunt and thrive in these frigid temperatures of the North. Yet, that strength was gone as soon as one’s aura was down. Heat was lost faster in cold water than in icy winds. Wading in the freezing waters quickly wore down onto Clover, layering with the crash and his fight with Tyrian. 

Clover’s good luck was bound to run out, or perhaps, Qrow’s close proximity was a bad influence. 

Tyrian thrashed hard enough for Clover’s head to dip down. He sucked in a mouthful of water, and he frantically coughed and spat it up once he bobbed back up. With a fierce, harsh heave, his aura suddenly blew out like a short fuse. The faint blue light crackled and disappeared, opening him up to the elements.

The effect was instant, Qrow noted with a terrified look. Clover scrambled and fumbled within the depths, his limbs trembling as he continued to try to hold down Tyrian. It was with that sight that Qrow quickly startled. Clover, fingers turning blue and his body shutting down from the hundred below zero temperature, was still trying to take Tyrian down. His own failing body didn’t matter--he had a job to do. He would be dead in a matter of minutes from the cold. But all he cared about was not his own salvation, but rather, finishing the operation.

Qrow continued to scramble. His arms jerked violently, the shackles cracking loudly under the pressure. Almost there--he had to get to him--

As Tyrian’s eyes flickered purple, the scorpion’s tail crept up behind them both. It came down with piercing accuracy, stabbing violently into Clover’s shoulder. A pained gasp came from Clover, releasing his hold finally upon Tyrian.

Water swallowed him whole. Qrow lost sight of Clover. The scene he found only hours ago replayed in his head, of James’ body laying scorched and broken among the wreckage of the continent. Unable to tear away from his face, staring into his empty, hollow husk of a body. Forced once again to stare in the face of what he had lost. Consumed by the earth and a casualty of Salem’s rage...

Just as Summer had been lost.

Qrow suddenly roared, blinded by a visceral swell of emotions that tore him from reality and his own body.

==

“You don’t smile much, do you?”

Qrow’s dull red eyes blinked lazily towards the young girl sitting next to him. His elbows rested on the table, the notepad and workbook between them, unmarked and unused. Beside him, his partner scowled at him, her cheeks puffed out in a pout. She leaned over to better see him, dragging his attention away from blindly staring down at his blank work.

“No. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile.” She hummed. “Actually...I don’t think I’ve seen you do much of anything, actually. I’ve never seen you get angry, or sad, or get excited...nevermind talk much of any.”

He blinked once more, but her words at least incited a little tilt of his head.

“Well…” the girl clicked her tongue, slowly leaning back in her chair. Her arms crossed, and she tapped her finger against her arm. Her expression was pensive, with a furrowed brow and silver eyes concealed by a flutter of eyelashes. It was enough to have him genuinely interested, turning in his chair just a bit to better see her.

“I think...I think that’s alright.” She finally decided with a nod. She picked her head up to smile brightly at him. “I mean, I guess I can do all the talking around here until you decide to. Raven said you could talk, but I haven’t heard any. Well, that’s ok too.”

Qrow tilted his head even further, his own brows twitching slightly in a curious look.

“That’ll just make when you do laugh, or cry, or even say something that much more meaningful, I think.”

== 

Robyn covered her face at the sudden explosion beneath her. Dark fog suddenly came rolling out in waves; she couldn’t tell if it were seeping up from the ground or falling down from above. The metal from the cuffs shattered like glass and scattered across the snow and against her own body. She couldn’t see past the smog nor past her own fingers, but she was able to make out a sudden form crouched before her.

A strange oppressive force weighed down heavily on her. She took a deep breath, only for the air to become trapped in her lungs. It burned fiercely, tasting of smoke on the back of her throat. Her eyes watered, only making her vision blur even worse. There were no discernible features of the creature before her; only the inky black of its body concealed by that mist.

What looked to be wings opened wide along its back, spreading so far that the rest of her vision was concealed only in black. There was a pause, Robyn watching in horror, anticipation. Those huge wings flapped hard suddenly. Dust, snow, and debris was kicked up, creating a small cyclone beneath it. The force of its flap was enough for Robyn to tumble and fall hard on her back in a daze.

The dark figure shot across the ice, casting a shadow that stretched far across the tundra. Darkness seemed to overtake the light creeping from across the horizon as its sheer size and presence created a curtain over the area. It flew towards the open crater in the ice, and with a startling speed, snatched up Clover from the frozen waters. White claws flashed as they hooked into his vest, yanking him out with relative ease. 

When Robyn was able to roll back into a sitting position, she could make out the creature out past the hole in the ice. Tyrian scrambled out of the water, turning to admire the creature with an excited cry of joy. He hollered something that she couldn’t quite make out. She very slowly got back to her feet to try to steal a better glance at whatever that thing was. Hand resting on her crossbow, she was prepared to strike it down had it been a grimm that somehow got too close--

Yet when she next blinked, the creature was gone. Instead, in its place, was Qrow, hunching over Clover’s crumbled body on the snow. There was a dull haze over his body as if that fog was concentrated around him. He hunched over Clover with shoulders brought forward. His body seemed to shudder with each breath, eyes blasting a harsh red against his pale skin. Any composure he had was shattered and exposed a rather feral, wild man Robyn had never seen before.

An arm was brought forward to partially conceal Clover past his thin arm. She swore she could see claw marks gouged in the snow.

==


	5. Chapter 5

At an early age, the promising huntsmen-in-training at the Atlesian Academy would practice a skill learned almost exclusively in the frigid tundra. Living in Atlas and Mantle proved to be a challenge; challenging not only for the constant stream of grimm trying to break past the city barriers, but for the harsh climate that offered little to no relief. 

There was only so much control of the temperature within the city limits. They were surrounded by that tundra, with their blowing winds and at times neverending blizzards. To combat this, large heating systems were installed across Mantle and Atlas. They were huge pieces of machinery that would heat the city and push back against the cold winds and snow. It was accepted and commonplace now to understand the presence of these heating systems as for the benefit of the city, for both the rich and the poor. They were a necessity to live in the tundra.

The huntsmen that were sent out into the tundra did not have that luxury. It was up to their own strengths to prevent them from perishing in the neverending cold. Either to fight a pack of grimm approaching the cities or to ensure a supply run cutting right through the wasteland, the huntsmen only had themselves as their protection. Huntsmen would be sent out for an unforeseeable amount of time, sometimes with very little supplies. Bulky winter gear would slow them down and prove to be too cumbersome during a fight. Hypothermia set in quickly and would succeed in breaking auras easily with prolonged exposure. 

The solution was rather simple and unique to Atlas. The only protection these huntsmen had was their aura, thus, it was what they used. The Atlesian huntsmen had developed a specific technique to protect against direct exposure to the cold. Many of these huntsmen would describe it as the aura extending outwards to act as their own winter coat. It was a rigorous training spanning years since childhood to be able to withstand the cold and hone their auras. Atlesian Huntsmen were able to hunt and survive in the frozen tundra for days on end without shivering. Their aura simply would not break when experiencing severe cold. There had been cases of huntsmen spending weeks in the tundra and not once experiencing frostbite. Their auras were not necessarily stronger than other huntsmen, but these individuals knew how to use it to protect against the harsh weather.

Yet, once that aura was shattered, they were just as vulnerable as any other human to the cold.

Clover often wondered what that training was like. What exactly was that strict regime to get huntsmen to not immediately turn into popsicles in this cold? Hell, his own ‘training’ was simply just learning to survive in Mantle, never mind some sort of weird military training. He had never even stepped in the academy as a student. No one had even heard of his name before he became an Ace-Op. 

James had teased him during his exhibition that first afternoon for his almost...unusual skill set (“Sleeveless? In this blizzard?” ... “Is that...a fishing rod?” … “Your fighting style is rather...flashy for merely taking out some beowolves.”). Clover had laughed off the General’s reaction, stating that military life wasn’t for him from the beginning.

Perhaps this had amused James. It certainly got a smile out of him. Maybe it was that he was brazen, bold, unafraid to say whatever was on his mind to the General. Could be that on its own had impressed the man.

However, he hadn’t expected to get offered the Ace-Op job later that day. His past history wiped clean, his criminal records gone, and his status rewritten. It was as if he were a new person...that old life was simply erased with a few clicks on a computer. Rewritten as an Atlesian Academy graduate, now promoted to James’ personal guard and huntsmen. Not a lick of military training, yet given one of the highest positions in that branch of service.

Would his life had turned out differently if he had managed to truthfully get into the Atlesian Academy? Why did such a thought cross his mind now? It didn’t matter now. That was in the past. Had it not been for James’ intervention in the first place by giving him that second chance so many years ago, he would’ve been dead in a ditch by now--

It had been so long since Clover had felt that frigid cold that when he first began to shiver he was snapped clean out of his thoughts. The icy cold water seemed to sap all heat out of his body so fast, faster than he could prepare for. His body screamed at him to immediately climb up onto the ice to get out of the icy water. Yet, despite the heaviness of his limbs and the chill shooting down his nerves and back to his core, he continued to fight. Water spilled into his gasping mouth and forced down into his throat and into his stomach. That freezing cold began to permeate from both outside and now inside of his body. This cold moved so quickly and so fervently he felt like he were a man possessed by some other worldly demon. 

His body grew so numb, he could only barely feel Tyrian thrashing against him. When he was suddenly smacked in the face with the back of Tyrian’s head, it was then that he recalled what he was here for. If he were to freeze, then so would Tyrian. He’d make sure of that. There wasn’t anything available to him to help him take down the criminal...nothing that he could use while he fought for oxygen and heat. Clover’s arms flailed, holding on tightly to Tyrian while his head bobbed just at the surface to hungrily gulp in air and heat. Kingfisher suddenly smacked against the icy wall next to him when he jerked back. That single movement sent a rock of pain through his body from the arm holding the rod. A sharp jolt, firing through his veins and bounding into his muscles, feeling as if the frozen crystals forming in his blood were shattered upon impact. That pain, however, was just enough for him to gain a shred of reality to grab the hook out of Kingfisher and pull. With a strangled howl he ripped the wire out of the weapon and proceeded to pull it taught against Tyrian’s throat.

Any man in Atlas knew that falling into the icy water beneath the surface of the Tundra was a death sentence; yet here he was, still desperately trying to apprehend this criminal.

Strangely, no doubts crossed Clover’s mind as he tried over and over to strangle Tyrian. Perhaps it was a one track thought to not let this criminal escape. It was an order by James, and an order he intended to keep. His body was his: his to sacrifice and his to give to the greater good. If he was to be lost in taking down Tyrian, then so be it. That was a sacrifice he was willing to make. 

After everything James had done for him...if his loss would benefit the protection of Atlas, of Mantle, of the world, then he would do it in a heartbeat. 

The sudden rush of crippling freezing cold after his aura shattered and the white hot pain in his shoulder caused the muscles in his body to jerk. His hands released Kingfisher, causing it to splash into the water and plunge into the depths below. The body against him squirmed, kicking off of him to scramble back onto the ice. Everything felt numb, heavy. It was a strain to move his limbs towards the ice. Each movement just sent a shockwave of pain blossoming from that shoulder--what had happened to him? Something broke his aura, that much he could tell, but he couldn’t even move that side of his body. With a groan he continued to feebly try to climb onto the ice. His good arm shook, desperately trying to reach out. God--he couldn’t move suddenly, and that pain in his shoulder was so terrible it was blinding him. His vision swam, drifting further and further into the depths of unconsciousness. 

Strangely, despite his confidence earlier, he didn’t want to die due to drowning. That sounded...rather upsetting.

His entire body grew stiff, beginning to sink deeper into the water. His throat closed up when water flooded his lungs, causing him to gag and choke painfully. Why couldn’t he move? Why was he paralyzed? Where did Tyrian go? Why couldn’t he see? What was happening to him...? 

Something scraped at the skin on his back, and suddenly, he could breathe again.

The cold chill of the Atlesian air bit at his skin. It was such a physical shock to his body it caused him to once again gasp in pain. His limbs violently trembled out of his control as his head fell back against the hard ice--when had he gotten back to the surface…? With a restrained groan he forced his eyes open.

Above him was a shape in black, with the cap of a white skull. Ah, so this was the way he was actually going to die. He never thought he would perish simply to the fangs of a grimm. Something more...exciting, daring, more of a story worth telling. Hell, drowning was better than this fate. So he was to die then at the hands of something monstrous, something heavy, something...speaking words to him…?

The back of a massive, furry hand brushed against his cheek. It didn’t feel prepared to rend flesh from bone, but rather it felt...warm, comforting, safe. Clover groaned briefly, letting his head fall back against the clawed hand. This thing...this thing was some sort of monster, some sort of grimm, clearly. A saber? A beowolf? Yet why did he suddenly feel a sense of security in its presence?

“--idiot, such a fucking idiot--!”

“Mm?” This thing was speaking to him, wasn’t it? Clover tilted his head back up to look at the grimm’s face, but this time, what stared down at him was something very, very human. Through the thick black mist wafting off of its skin, he could see those familiar red eyes bore into him. But they didn’t belong to the creature from earlier. No, he could recognize his gaze from anywhere…

A lazy smile crossed Clover’s features, his blue lips straining to make the motion. The tips of his fingers, stiff and blue as well, twitched in an attempt to reach out to him. Ah, he knew who this was…

“Qrow…” Clover wheezed out, the word spilling from his lips in a coasting whisper.

“You fucking idiot!”

The insult made his smile twitch wider, his head falling back onto the ice again with a dull thud. A very human hand grabbed on tight to his face, urging him to keep looking forward. Even the muscles in his neck were too tired to hold his head up. So exhausted, so weak, all he wanted to do was sleep...but there was still work to be done.

“Guh...don’t worry about me. ‘m fine...just....buh...just worry about getting T-Tyrian before he--”

“Stop!”

That single word cut through the fog Clover felt in an instant. His eyes immediately flickered, struggling to focus on Qrow’s face with some clarity. His face twitched as the image of the huntsmen grew clearer before him. That strange black mist surrounding them dissipated, revealing Qrow fully to him. His expression was wrought with an unusual sadness and grief. Hot tears dripped down his face and onto Clover’s skin. The way his hands clung onto him, the way his face twisted up in grief and longing, the way that his sobs spilled from his lips...Clover felt his heart suddenly pinch tightly in his chest.

“Clover, please, just...just stop.”

Clover swallowed the thick lump in his throat, laying there pitifully before Qrow. He once again tried to move from underneath him. However, he could only shift his legs a fraction of an inch before giving in again. Everything felt frozen solid, heavy and painful. Damn. Was this hypothermia settling in? He was so tired…

But he couldn’t stop just yet. Even if Qrow’s words only saddened him, he didn’t have time to stop. There was still danger looming ahead. If Tyrian managed to escape, the damage that would ensue would be terrible. A henchmen of Salem and a serial killer with a colored past...such a threat couldn’t go running around freely. Tyrian disgusted him. It would do everyone better if he were stopped, either temporarily or permanently. Either one didn’t mean anything to Clover.

“Ugh, shit. I can’t move.” Clover hissed past chattering teeth. His head pressed against Qrow’s trembling hands in a vain attempt to see where Tyrian had run off to. But his vision was blurred far too greatly now, only able to see the bright wash of white against the colors of the rising sun. He couldn’t identify any shapes or any sort of features, which only succeeded in further frustrating him.

Qrow’s hands tightened their grip on Clover’s face, forcing him to look back once again. The man’s hands felt strangely hot against his frozen skin, and he found himself savoring that touch. His eyelids felt heavy and began to fall shut even as Qrow hovered closer to him.

“Stop already!” Qrow snapped. His voice was much louder than necessary, practically screaming right in his face. This succeeded in startling Clover awake again; green eyes flashed open and stared right up into those red ones.

“Qrow--j-just go and--”

“Shut up! Just fucking shut up!” Qrow howled again, giving his head another firm shake. His head bonked against the ice, not hard enough to cause damage but hard enough to make him grimace. Qrow’s fingers curled into Clover’s hair, thumbs pressing under his ears, and he pulled him up close enough for his breath to ghost over his frigid skin.

Clover blinked a few times as he felt his body lifted up, pulled up from the hard ice. He was suddenly tucked against Qrow’s lithe body in a practically frantic motion. His head was slipped against his neck, the man’s arms wrapped around his trunk, and the other’s face nestled against the side of his cheek.The thick blood leaking out of his shoulder began to stain and drench Qrow’s vest, practically gluing their bodies together.

“Clover...please.” Qrow wept. His hot tears melted against Clover’s cheeks, making the man in his arms groan weakly. “Please...stop this already. Your life isn’t worth it to throw away just on some orders. Just because it’s what someone tells you to do. You have your own damn choice, and don’t choose dying just to satisfy some sort of command. He’s already gone, anyways. Loyalty don’t mean shit if it’s something leading to your own damn death.”

Clover grew quiet. Had he not been breathing loudly and shakily against Qrow’s neck, he would’ve been assumed unconscious. But it was clear he was listening from his consistent, hard gaze into Qrow’s hair.

His chest squeezed tight. A shuddering breath left his lips of a strangled attempt to hold back tears. The emotions dripping off of Qrow’s words had set a lump in his throat. It was enough to at least make him question what the hell he was doing. Tyrian needed to be brought to justice, and his oath to James was apparent. He had no sense of belonging up until his job as an Ace-Op. Of course he’d offer up his work and even his body to James. That man had saved his life, and he’d follow his own code of faith and goodwill to the end.

“Don’t throw your life away just to bring one man to jail.” Qrow sobbed further. His entire body trembled, squeezing Clover tightly against his body, tight enough to squeeze a puff of air out of his lungs. The man let out a soft wheeze in response, his fingers tangling in the fabric of his vest.

He hadn’t heard of so much emotion in his voice...not in the previous conversations that they’ve had. Qrow was usually solemn, quiet, kept to himself. But he had a bit of spunk in him under those layers of grief and regrets. He was a kindhearted, rather gentle man. He still held most of his secrets and details of his past to himself, but it no longer took as much prying to get him to talk about his worries and his anxieties to him. He felt close with him, even if he still didn’t know as much as he would’ve liked about him.

That thought saddened him a moment. They had spent so much time together, and only some of it was spent growing closer. The rest of it was hazy nights of sex, lust, and adorations of physical attraction. He could recall numerous times that he’d drag him down to the mattress to unwind after a fourteen hour shift. But the number of times that he had actually held conversations aimed at understanding Qrow, or for that matter, sharing his own information? Far fewer than he would’ve liked. The first mission in the cave system, their card games in the back of the cargo holds, and their tired mumbled conversations over a shared lunch or dinner…

Clover was a bit surprised to add that to his list of regrets. This sudden burst of desperation still caught Clover off guard. He tightened his grip against Qrow, closing his eyes with a tiny whimper. Something here was deeper, something else was going on, but he didn’t have the brain power to dig into it quite yet. 

Yet, he could grasp onto the words that Qrow had offered to him. Don’t throw your life away...what good would he be if he were to die here…? Hell, he really actually didn’t want to die. Those proud retorts that he would die for James were still true, but if he had a choice, he really didn’t want to die. It wasn’t that there was more he wanted to do and more that he wanted to make up for, but simply, he was enjoying his life and didn’t want it to end. It wasn’t just about usefulness here--even if that did play a part--but a simple matter of not being ready to die.

Hell, he was running out of second chances here, and yet, here was Qrow offering yet another one. What the hell. Maybe he’d take this fourth/fifth/sixth chance and actually try to take him out for a proper date after all this was over. One that wasn’t just used to get Qrow to drop his pants. Shit. What would they even talk about? 

Maybe his apology would work for now.

“...mm…’m sorry.” Clover finally choked out against Qrow. “Qrowmm...sorry. So-so-sorry…”

“Please, I don’t want you to die.” Qrow whimpered weakly. “Ok? You deserve to live just as much as anyone else does… Don’t be willing to die for someone else’s barking orders… Promise me you won’t throw your life away like this. Ok? I’ll get James to snap out of this shit and we’ll work it all out. Ok? I’ll talk to him, I’ll get to him, I’ll make sure he can understand what the fuck he’s doing. But promise me you won’t throw your life away for this!”

What had Qrow so passionate here? Sure, he figured the other man didn’t want him dead. But those words he kept repeating...orders, loyalty...what was going on here? Damn it all, Clover couldn’t process shit. All he could process was James’ name being mentioned. Fuck. His brain felt like mush.

Did Qrow really care that much about him? Or did he not want to bring his dead corpse to James? Either way, he still felt like shit here. Perhaps it was just an attempt to soothe him, or perhaps he really just couldn’t grasp what was happening in those moments. One thought just led into another, like some sort of messed up traffic jam. Crash, crash, bang--

“Clover--! I need you to promise me!”

“I p-promise.” Clover rasped. For a moment, he didn’t know if he believed those words, or if he were just saying them to placate Qrow. It didn’t matter, really. He himself found himself believing his own words. His grip tightened on Qrow, wheezing vaguely. Qrow’s words rang with an evident truth...he didn’t want him to die. 

Maybe he should stop living for other people, but that was a Future-Clover problem. If Qrow didn’t want him to die, it was the least he could do to try to make things right. He wanted to be a better man, not just for James, but for Qrow now too. 

Qrow’s nose buried into his hair, releasing another choking sob. He gave him another tight squeeze, slowly rocking further back and forth. 

“Thank you.” Qrow wheezed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

“Mm…” Clover hummed, his eyes finally fluttering shut. His breathing began to slow, able to finally relax if only for a little bit. Hearing and feeling Qrow’s placated mood allowed him enough leniency to rest. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to rest, he thought bitterly, as his body grew numb and heavy. But that was out of his control now.

Another voice began to speak above him. Qrow’s head pulled away from Clover, but the man shifted his grip to still cradle him closely. Qrow spoke again, his voice muffled and sounding almost distant. There was a conversation going on above him with a few occasional words he could decipher through the thick fog of his brain.

“...should be here soon…”

“...have...a lot of time…”

“...poisoned...going to die…”

So they were talking about him, then. Whoever was there beside Qrow, too. Gods, he could barely understand words anymore. It all just felt like a slur of sounds and noises...what was happening to him? Was he going to die? No...he didn’t want to die…

The arm with the injured shoulder twitched, his hand attempting to reach up towards his pin. A soft pained noise was heard as his arm instead jerked at the slightest movement. With a snarling growl he tried to power through the searing bouts of pain. After another blinding jolt of agony, he relented, giving up on his mission. He allowed that injured arm to go slack and fall back to the snow. It seemed it was noticed by Qrow, who quickly took hold of that hand with a tight grip.

“Clover--easy, it’s alright. Robyn’s going to take care of you and get you out of here.” he spoke, mouth close enough to his ear that he could comprehend his words. “Don’t move. You’re hurt bad. Just--just hang on, alright?”

Clover groaned once more, slowly forcing his eyes open again. He couldn’t see him from how tightly he was squished to his chest, but he could hear the frantic drum of the man’s heartbeat pounding through his ribcage. The sensation was strangely soothing through the rising anxiety in his throat. His shoulder throbbed, feeling more of the hot sticky blood drip down onto his bare skin. Even through his settling hypothermia, it hurt more than anything he had imagined. A burning, as if his very flesh was being eaten away.

Laying there in his arms, he truly felt as if he were still dying. What a miserable feeling. Couldn’t even move, couldn’t even think straight. More speaking, their words sounding distant and far away. He could feel the rumble and vibrations of Qrow speaking, but that was about it. That gentle drone of his voice, unintelligible of it all, was enough to lull him to a state of sleep. He knew in the back of his mind that he shouldn’t be sleeping--the threat of being unable to wake was enough to loom over him. Yet, there was little for him to do to fight against it.

Maybe it was the idea of being held so generously by Qrow. It was a rather nice feeling, after all.


	6. Chapter 6

The door was shut behind James with a resounding thud, followed by more distant slams. Vaguely he could hear the indignant cries and arguments within that back room behind him. Shouts were heard all the while as he walked down the steps and towards the elevator just up ahead. His heavy footsteps echoed on the polished floor. James made no move to go back towards the office, even as gunshots erupted and the sound of broken glass echoed. Instead, he kept his gaze straight ahead, moving towards the elevator. The only sound that soon filled his head was his own boots stepping onto the floor.

The girls were smart. They were strong. He had given them licenses for a reason. He knew they would put up an honest fight. But that didn’t matter. The Ace-Ops were competent, they had experience over them. He knew he could trust them to quell the younger’s rebellion. They just didn’t understand the weight of the situation, nor did they know the first thing about running a country. They didn’t know what they were doing. Their hasty decisions were driven by their bristling emotions. More people would die. 

That was how Salem infiltrated in the first place. He had faltered, but not again. They didn’t understand what was at stake, what needed to be sacrificed, and what needed to survive. The situation wasn’t as simple as they believed it to be. There were so many sides to it that they hadn’t even considered. They just didn’t understand!

The elevator opened on its own. James wordlessly stepped inside, allowing the doors to shut behind him. He jammed a code in with his thumb on the keypad. Almost immediately, the elevator dinged, and began its descent down.

The sudden shift made James take a step back to steady himself. With that step a soft choking noise slipped out. Like a wave, the wound pressure washed over him suddenly. Once alone, he released a shaking breath through his nostrils. His lungs felt so tight, so full, as if they had jumped up into his throat. He couldn’t breathe. His vision swam as the vertigo rattling in his brain made him stumble.

A grimace flashed across his features. The bandaged hand held in the sling twitched, sending a rocket of pain up towards his shoulder to spread across his back and chest. He frantically swallowed, holding back any sort of bile that swelled within him.

His head fell back, and he gazed up towards the dim lights in the roof of the elevator cell. For a few moments, all he did was breath, sucking in gulps of air to his strangled lungs. But even that simple action proved difficult.

He knew what he had to do. It was not an easy decision, but it was the right one. He knew that. The survival of a few won out over the destruction of everyone. But why did he still harbor doubts? He had blocked off and turned off any and all emotion. He didn’t feel sorrow or grief or regrets. It was only the General that was left. Or at least, that was what he chose to believe. He wouldn't let his emotions control him. Atlas needed a firm guiding hand, not a cowering man. That responsibility was left to him.

The elevator continued to go down. The trip itself felt as if it were endless. The basement was quite some stories down, hidden beneath the ice. Tucked far away from humanity to protect the relic. Even if the building were to fall, the relic itself would be unharmed and safe. That knowledge didn’t make the trip down any easier; he could feel his ears beginning to pop as the elevator picked up speed to dip below sea level.

For a brief moment, he was taken back to Beacon. God, what strange deja vu he felt. It was as if he were back to two years ago, descending down with Ozpin, Qrow, Glynda, and Pyrrha to where the Fall Maiden lay. His chest tightened, recalling the same visceral claustrophobia he felt riding that elevator down the now ruined tower. The maiden, the relics...all were lost in the fall to Beacon. That Relic still remained uncovered to this day. 

James...James was different from Ozpin. He wouldn’t let Atlas fall, he wouldn’t lose the Winter Maiden to Salem, and he wouldn’t let the Relic disappear. He was willing to die to protect what mattered. And he was doing what needed to be done. Even if those children disagreed, this was what was for the best. They...they were good kids, but they had unachievable beliefs and goals. Their optimism wouldn’t work in this case. They needed to know the cold hard truth. A dose of reality.

James very slowly released a heavy sigh that lingered in his chest. It seemed to lighten the pressure, at least enough for him to compose himself. He was doing the right thing. He knew he was. Ozpin was smart, but he had failed to protect his students and protect the world. He couldn’t handle that responsibility, instead laying the pressure onto the youth of today. How disappointing. He wouldn’t make the same egregious errors.

Qrow would likely argue against him, he thought bitterly. The poor man still had no clue of his manipulation, all these years later. What was Qrow still fighting for, anyways? Why was he tagging along with the girls? What led him to still remain as such a firm protector? Qrow was a good man; that much he could attest to easily.. But this new show of unfalliable compassion and kinship was...something new. Ozpin was dead, he was finally free to do what he wanted...and he chose to remain allied with a fallen man’s flawed ideals. Was this just a far cry to uphold his memory? Or had he finally found a new purpose in shielding these children?

Qrow had been Ozpin’s prodigy for years, even before he had met him at that Vytal Tournament in his senior year. Ozpin had picked Qrow out when they were both still in school, and soon trained to become his own personal huntsmen. Qrow’s loyalty and passion were understandable, at least from what he told him. Ozpin had taken him in and practically raised him as his own. Qrow hadn’t had the best situation growing up--in fact the man couldn’t remember any of it, if James himself recalled what Qrow had told him. Ozipn had been the first parental figure in his life, the first positive influence he ever had.

That was always a good thing. James understood that need to belong, to have purpose, and to not be alone. But James couldn’t help but ponder if perhaps Qrow’s loyalty to Ozpin had blinded him. When Ozpin was alive, Qrow would follow any sort of command or request without question. He wouldn’t wonder, he wouldn’t doubt, but instead he’d just do. Was Ozpin’s old teachings and words still ringing in his head?

But ah. Maybe he wasn’t too different to his own work with the last general before him...perhaps he was just growing panicked, anxious. Qrow wasn’t Ozpin. He was his own man--and one of his closest friends. 

James slowly shook his head. The elevator began to slow, signalling his destination was fast approaching. They didn’t have much time left…

His metal hand reached into his pocket, pulling out his scroll. It was a bit difficult to navigate with only his thumb, but he managed to reach Winter’s contact with a few button presses. As it loaded, he caught his own reflection, and seemed to be taken aback.

He didn’t recognize his own image. Dark circles under his eyes, deepened wrinkles on his face, graying hair moused and messy...it was as if he had grown older in a matter of days. Stress and exhaustion had eaten away at him physically, leaving a lifeless man behind. It really had been nonstop in the few weeks since everyone had been here…

But he didn’t have time to stop. He had to be ready for Salem’s inevitable arrival. She was coming, and he wouldn’t let himself be caught unguarded again. He was ready to fight back now, even if it killed him.

A sharp swallow, and he closed his eyes. With one last button press, he sent the message of the continuation of their plan. The message was flagged as sent, just as the elevator door opened.

==

“Clover? Clover!”

Qrow’s pained shout echoed across the tundra. The huntsmen hovered over Clover possessively, pressing one hand against the side of his face. He gave him a little shake, his gaze desperately searching his glazed over expression.

“Come on! You can’t go to sleep yet!” Qrow begged. “Stay with me, talk to me! Let me hear your voice!”

Clover’s expression twisted into a pained look, but his eyes flickered back up to Qrow. Whatever consciousness he had left was beginning to slip, melting out with the bloody poison seeping out of his arm. But it was clear he was making a conscious effort to follow his instructions. Little grunts slipped through his lips and his brow twitched, but nothing much more than that.

“Fuck!” Qrow howled. He tucked Clover back against him, rocking slowly back and forth. He couldn’t lose him, not again. Already Clover had died in his arms once. He couldn’t subject himself to that torment again. So many people had perished because of him... Even if Clover never spoke to him again, even if James left too, it didn’t matter. No one else was going to die at his hands. He’d take the loneliness and sadness over and over again if it meant that no one would die this time.

Clover wasn’t just a friend to him. He, well...he frankly didn’t know what they were. After all those afternoons getting coffee or evenings sharing dinner, they never talked about what exactly “they were”. Qrow’s fears would always come creeping up whenever they were together. His terror ruled over him, lacking the ability to speak of how much he truly cared for him. As they spent the nights entangled in limbs and practically drugged states of pleasure, he could never summon the courage to speak. They sometimes spoke with each other and they were frequently intimate, but--

Qrow shook his head again. Not now, not now. He couldn’t yearn over regrets and unspoken words. This time, Clover was going to live. He was going to make sure of that.

“Robyn! When the hell is your backup coming?” Qrow snapped to Robyn.

The woman turned her attention back to him, lowering her scroll away from her ear. She released a stress breath through her nose as she stepped closer to the two of them.

“They’re coming with a ship now. They should be three minutes away by now. Apparently, the skies are filled with grimm, they’re having trouble--”

“There’s a man fucking dying here!” Qrow barked. His arms curled tighter around Clover, hunching over him protectively. The man’s face rested against his shoulder, taking in slow, shaking breaths. “Tell them to hurry up already!”

“They’re doing what they can!” Robyn snapped, pointing a finger towards him. “I’m the one doing you a favor here! He’s the one that started all of this!”

“So you’d really let a man die if they disagree with you?” Qrow hissed out. He gazed back at her, a feral look in his eyes. That wild look that Robyn had seen before. She reluctantly stepped back away from him, turning her gaze down at the ice.

“Just...help’s coming, alright? Even if he is James’ dog… They’re coming as quickly as they can.” she muttered softly. “Use your aura to keep him alive for now, and it’ll be fine.”

Qrow sniffed briefly at that, gazing back down at Clover. His fingers twitched as they curled back into Clover’s vest. He grew silent. The only sounds heard were the howling winds. Qrow brushed his thumb against Clover’s frozen cheek, tracing over to his mouth. He rested the pad of his thumb on Clover’s lips to feel his breath ghost against the skin. Just a few wisps, that's all that he could muster. 

Qrow shook his head.

“Can’t.” Qrow whispered. “My aura can’t even heal myself. It would only make the situation worse.”

“What?” Robyn questioned, looking back over at him with a startled look. “You can’t transfer your aura--?”

“No.” Qrow muttered. A bitter, barking laugh. “Ha. Pretty unlucky.”

Robyn didn’t respond to that remark; Qrow knew immediately that she had no answers. His terrible semblance wasn’t a secret among them anymore. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched for his aura to be so volatile. That was a good enough reason. So instead of further arguing, he buried his nose in Clover’s hair and cradled him against his chest. If he couldn’t use his aura, then he’d keep the chill off of his body.

Not everyone had healing abilities in the same ways that Jaune did. But many huntsmen were able to transfer their auras to someone else in cases of emergency. Almost like forming a tangible link between two souls. It would allow for healing in a pinch. Sometimes it was just enough to save someone’s life. All auras were used to heal in the first place, or prevent injuries. Most huntsmen were at least able to transfer enough to make a difference. Some compared it to first aid, and in many schools, it was taught like that. Many graduates could recall a time that transferring their aura saved someone’s life. 

Qrow’s aura was different. Aura was connected to one’s semblance--if their aura broke, then they could not use their semblance. With Qrow’s semblance being bad luck, it created a rather caustic feedback loop involving a harmful aura and an attraction for misfortune. As he received unlucky blows and injuries, his aura couldn’t fight against his own unlucky streak. It left him with a rather useless defense system.

If he were to try to link his aura with Clover to heal him, it would likely only make the situation that much worse. Qrow couldn’t stifle the helplessness swelling within. He felt so pathetic and weak. He had tried so hard to save Clover, but it only blew up in his face. It was like nothing had changed in the first place. Once again, Clover was dying in his arms, and he could do nothing.

For a moment, Qrow felt so overwhelmed that he began to shake. Clover was brushing against death here, and he still had to go and tame the beast that was James. He’d have to rush back into Atlas and try to convince James what needed to be done. That man was already off his rocker if he was to believe what Ruby said, and he had no reason not to. That was already a daunting task that he had to deal with--James was stubborn, and even after years of knowing him, most of the time it was push comes to shove. James wasn’t so keen on bending over for just anyone...but Qrow was hoping that he wasn’t just anyone to him.

Qrow pressed his lips against the top of Clover’s freezing head. If Clover didn’t survive, then all of this would’ve been for naught. Qrow couldn’t handle the idea of Clover dying twice in twenty four hours, but the worst was knowing the effect it would have on James. That man was already so fragile, hanging on by a simple lifeline. If that weak thread of trust were to be torn--

“I’m going to save you, then save James.” Qrow breathed against Clover’s skin. “I’m going to make sure you’re safe and you’re alright, then I’ll drag James out of whatever hole he’s dug himself into this time. I won’t let either of you die.”

He didn’t hear the engine of the approaching plane until the hot winds buffeted against him. Qrow curled tighter around Clover, turning to look over his shoulder with a wild look. Just a few yards away, a small Atlesian ship landed. Gashes and scuffs littered its metal hull, but it seemed to still be in one piece. At first, Qrow felt a panic swell in his belly at the sight of the military sigil on the side. Dammit! He was still a wanted man, how could he forget? Of course they had come; they had come last time. He didn’t think he could break out of that jail cell like this. Everyone was relying on him--!

“Took you long enough!” Robyn called, jogging over to the ship. The door slid open, revealing the sheep faunus poking her head out. Her eyes widened, soft ears perking up as she looked to the huntress approaching her.

“You try stealing a military ship and navigating the sky filled with monsters.” she teased, smirking back to Robyn.

Wait. That was…?

Qrow couldn’t help the relieved laugh, burying his nose back into Clover’s hair. It was the Happy Huntresses. Of course they had managed to steal an Atlesian ship. That was what took so damn long. He almost found it impressive.

Slowly he pulled his head away to gaze back down at Clover. His fingers brushed against his cool cheeks and slid back into his hair. The sensation seemed to stir Clover, his gaze flickering back up to Qrow. A small, lazy smile crossed his features. The frost had begun to settle in his hair and across his skin, with blue lips and blue ears accentuating the fact. Despite that hypothermia taking control of him, he still seemed just enamored to look at him. It was a true happiness that made Qrow stumble. No words could come out of his lips this time. Instead, he merely blinked down at him.

“Hey!” Robyn called from the ship. Qrow didn’t tear his gaze away from Clover, yet she continued. “Bring him over here to Fiona before we change our minds!”

Qrow swallowed, blinking back down at Clover. The injured huntsman managed to release a puff of air from his nostrils, giving a sleepy blink. At first Qrow believed that Clover was still in that barely conscious stupor, but to his surprise, the man’s uninjured arm suddenly rose up and grabbed at his chest. His frozen fingers fumbled, searching desperately for something. Qrow couldn’t interrupt him in time before his fingers hooked on his pin and tore it from his vest.

“Clover?”

“Shhhush hush hush…” Clover blearily said, waving the hand holding the pin once more. In a quick motion, he pressed it against Qrow’s sternum. The pin itself shone briefly, and Qrow recalled them back on the ship before it crashed into the tundra for a second time. That motion that Clover did against his pin before it flickered, as if it had its own aura. That thing he did with his fingers.

He blinked a few times, just barely able to reach an idea, but quickly discarding it.

“What are you--?”

“Mmm...t-take it. You need g-g-good luck more than me.” he slurred out with a heavy tongue. That smile returned, weak and frail, but still carrying Clover’s charm. Qrow’s hand slowly moved, slipping behind Clover’s to hold it in place against his chest.

“No, you’re the one who needs it now.” Qrow insisted. “You--”

“Y-You’re still a wanted man.” Clover rasped out. “Y-You’ll be shot on sight. You need a b-b-bit of luck to get to J-James…”

Qrow swallowed hard, finding the words stuck on his tongue.

“Hey! Are you coming or what?!” Robyn called. “You said you wanted him taken care of! Now you’re--”

“I’m coming! Hold on!” Qrow snapped. The pin was held in a tight fist, rearranging his grip on Clover. In a quick motion, Qrow lifted up Clover, tucking the man against his chest. The red blood coming from his shoulder spilled down his arm and to his fingers, where it fell in the snow at his feet. He held the man tight against his chest as he began to jog over to the ship.

Quickly he stepped inside, following Fiona to the hull of the ship. A makeshift gurney was already prepared on the floor, which he invited himself to put Clover down there. He knelt down beside it, lowering Clover down gingerly. The man hissed in pain, causing Qrow to instinctively shush him. Once he was down, he carded his fingers through Clover’s hair to quiet him down.

Fiona slid in on the other side, moving towards a small box with two large pads and wires connecting them. It was gray, with large colored symbols on it, including one for First Aid. He blinked to her, before looking back to Clover with a saddened look. The metal of the pin dug into his palm, the chill contrasting the heat of his hand. 

Fiona pulled Clover’s shirt up, exposing his chest and stomach. One of the pads was placed on his chest over his heart, the other placed towards his left hip. She reached behind her, flicking the small box on, and almost immediately, the pads lit up with a gentle white glow. In response, Clover twitched, hissing briefly in pain.

“What is that?” Qrow questioned, hunching forward over him.

“EAAD. Electronic Aura Augmentation Device. Or, an artificial aura machine.” Fiona explained simply, taking a moment to smile back at Qrow. She dipped her head with a nod, before turning back to tend to Clover. 

Qrow watched as she tore the rest of his shirt off, beginning to tend to the shoulder wound. The blood was wiped away, exposing the ripped and torn flesh. No longer hidden, Qrow could see how deep the puncture went. It tore through muscle, tendons, and bone, practically piercing to the other side. Despite it being a clean cut, he could practically see the poison melting the inside of his shoulder.

“Ah--.” Qrow swallowed the bile rising up. He looked back at Clover’s face, discarding the ugly wound from his vision. He released the held breath in his chest with a strangled wheeze. “He’s been hit by that poison. He needs an antidote now--”

“Alright. We’ll take care of him.” Fiona tried to assure him, letting another smile flicker across her features. He noted how forced it felt.

“If you come back with us, you’ll be arrested.” Robyn called, stepping into the ship. She pulled the door shut with a loud thud behind her. She turned back to the pilot, hollering a command, and then looked back to Qrow. “You’re on the most wanted list right now. We’re going back to the main hospital in Atlas for first aid. If you go back there--”

“Yeah. I know.” Qrow nodded. He gave one last look back to Clover, a saddened expression present. The back of his hand coasted Clover’s cheek, spurning the man to groan. His eyes fluttered open to stare up at Qrow, and his smile was infectious. Even as his face twitched from the clear pain he was in, he still managed to flash a grin up at him. 

Qrow chuckled softly, giving a loving pat to Clover’s cheek. “Be good. I’ll be back soon. Get some rest.”

Clover gave him a sleepy nod. That seemed to take the last of his strength, for his body relaxed and his eyes fluttered shut. Qrow gazed back down at him, before slowly standing.

“Take care of him. I need to go do one last thing.” Qrow ordered. His hand uncurled, revealing the pin still resting in his palm. There was only a moment of hesitation that resolved with him pinning it to the front of his shirt. It tugged with a gentle, reassuring weight.

“Where are you going?” Robyn questioned. She pressed a hand to the wall as the plane slowly lifted back up from the tundra floor and into the air.

“I’ll let you know where to drop me off.” he responded, looking out the window of the ship. The abandoned wreckage, the hole in the ice and the shock of red staining the snow grew smaller and smaller.

“What?” Robyn continued to push, stepping closer to him. 

“We need back up. I know the man to go to for it. If we don’t get it, we’re all going to die.” Qrow instructed, not tearing his gaze away from her. She opened her mouth to argue, before promptly shutting it. “I’ll let you know where to drop me off. I can go the rest of the way from there. Just focus on getting Clover to the hospital. Or whatever’s still standing.”

“...what do you want us to say when they ask about you?” Robyn questioned.

Qrow blinked, sniffing loudly.

“Whatever you want. I ran away when the plane crashed, I fled after. Whatever. Come up with something. You’re smart, aren’t you?”

Robyn scoffed.

“Fine. You’re on your own once you leave. We can’t help you with this mess going on.”

“I know.” Qrow nodded. “Thank you, though. Just watch your own back and take care of him. That’s all I need from you.”

Robyn reluctantly backed down. She turned away from him, moving down to help Robyn stabilize Clover. Qrow glanced back down at him with a saddened look. One hand rested on the pin, thumbing it thoughtfully, while the other forcefully wiped away the last of his tears.


	7. Chapter 7

Qrow peeked around one of the statues in the main plaza. His red eyes seemed alight, this time not with mischief or malice, but instead, a curious wonder. All of the other commotion happening around campus didn’t hold his interest for very long this time. In fact, he found most of it excruciatingly overwhelming. He didn’t understand what exactly all of the festivities scattered about even were. New people, strange smells, bright colors and lights...he had actually been hiding away from much of this thrill until this afternoon, after Summer had dragged him out of the dorm with the instruction of “go find something to do”. Reluctantly, he had no choice but to do it.

It wasn’t some sort of activity that grabbed his attention, but rather, a tall young man standing across the plaza on the other side. 

He was taller than he knew a person could be, standing above the others he was talking to. He wore a pale uniform he thought he could recognize, but not one that belonged to Vale's Beacon Academy. Even past that thick uniform jacket he could see a wide, well built frame. Almost like Tai, but somehow even taller and wider. Dark, well groomed hair was kept out of his attractive face. He must've been older, Qrow thought, tracing his strong jawline and cheekbones with his eyes. What was striking, however, were his deep blue eyes. He didn't know eyes could be that blue…

The young man laughed loudly at what one of his acquaintances said. Qrow blinked at the noise, scooting further around the statue to see better. What a strange young man...what a handsome young man, actually. A few slim fingers traced across his sternum, feeling how harsh his heart was beating. He'd never felt like this before...what was it? Was he put under some spell? Was it that strange man’s semblance influencing him?

Ah, he didn’t know. People were so strange, so...unpredictable, crazy. The only ones Qrow really knew well were his team and Headmaster Ozpin. Never did his heart race so quickly as it did now when looking at any of them. He didn’t know his heart could beat this fast and this hard. Almost like a drum pounding in his ribcage, sending vibrations of harsh heat through his veins to blossom against his cheeks and ears. Not even looking at Summer caused him to feel so...ill. He felt ready to vomit. What was happening?

A pause in the chatter made Qrow suddenly realize the young man was looking at him. Like a scared animal, he immediately ducked back behind the statue. He cowered behind it, gasping for air. The binding he wore seemed to restrain every simple breath he took. Shit! His eyes squeezed shut, trying to regain some composure. That guy had found him. He realized he was staring at him. What was going to happen now? Would he grow angry? Not like he had the courage to just go up and talk to him anyways...but to potentially try to justify or explain his actions?

"Whatcha doing?"

"Gah!" Qrow quickly snapped his eyes open and focused his attention on the voice. Standing right before him was Summer, looking up at him with wide, curious eyes. Quickly he swallowed the offending lump in his throat, running one hand through his short choppy hair. His other hand rested in a loose fist on his chest.

“Are you sneaking around?” Summer questioned. A sly smirk crossed her features, and she poked a finger in his hip. He recoiled immediately, his hand on his chest moving to touch his offended hip. “That’s rude, you know. We talked about this at least twice, now! You could get in serious trouble if you go and stalk the wrong person! I can’t always bail you out!”

“Mm…” Qrow’s eyes rolled, and he turned to peek around the statue again. Sure, Summer was teaching him what to do and what not to do after his crippling ordeal at the beginning of the school year. But that didn’t mean that everything stuck the first time around. Or the second. Or the fifth. 

What was so wrong with sneaking if the other person didn’t find out? Well, actually, that young man did see him before, and perhaps Summer’s words did carry some weight to it...they usually did, after all.

He leaned against the side of the statue, peering out owlishly towards where the young man had been. No longer was he looking in his direction, but rather, chatting with the other students again. His shoulders slacked in relief, continuing to gaze out unobstructed.

Almost unobstructed.

He startled when he felt Summer’s hand on his lower back, peeking around him rather comically. He turned his head to look down at her, and Summer slowly turned her head to meet his eyes. She fluttered her eyelashes, a teasing smile showing up.

“Sorry. You’re not getting out of this one, bud.”

Qrow huffed loudly in response, ignoring the comment.

“Mm...I don’t understand.” Qrow began to mumble. “I think he’s doing something to me. Some sort of semblance or weapon or something...my stomach’s all up in knots, and my throat’s so tight I can barely breathe. And I think my heart’s about to explode, too. I don’t know what’s going on. But ever since that man looked at me…I feel sick.”

She allowed her gaze to drift out towards where the young man, gradually putting the pieces together of Qrow’s sudden grabbing interest and strange onset of illness. It seemed something finally came to her as she looked to the young man, to Qrow, the young man again, and finally back to Qrow for the last time.

“Oh!”

She ducked back around the statue, grabbing Qrow’s wrist as she went. He was forced to follow her, given another push of assistance by the sudden tug of his belt. He stumbled back behind the statue, giving Summer an indignant look.

Summer’s soft giggles filled his ears; a rather delightful sound.

“Looks like someone has a crush.” Summer sang, poking his nose. He blinked at the touch, shaking his head with a quiet snort. “Ohhh! That’s so cute! You’ve never had a crush before! Good taste, too. He’s handsome.”

Qrow rubbed at his nose with his palm, squinting back at Summer. “What are you talking about? What’s a crush?”

“Oh, uh--” Summer swallowed, her own cheeks turning red. “Right. Uh. It’s like, uh...when you want to get to know someone. Not just as a friend, but uh...shoot, how do I describe it…like when you really, really like someone...you think they’re cute or handsome or pretty and you want to spend more time with them--”

Qrow gave a slow blink. “Like...you and Tai?”

Summer’s face turned a bright red. She huffed, ignoring his question and instead looking back around the statue at who Qrow had been staring at. Her cheeks puffed out comically, and Qrow found a soft laugh escaping his lips. 

Yet, the longer she looked, the more that she realized she knew this young man from somewhere. Her eyes widened and her jaw hung open, finally recognizing him.

“Wait--that’s James Ironwood!” she gaped.

“Who?” Qrow questioned, hovering over her to follow her gaze.

“You know, uh!” her hands motioned vaguely at him. “He’s the top of his class at Atlas’ school. He’s that senior that they’re betting on to win the Vytal Tournament. Apparently he’s the general’s favorite or something. Like, you know! That guy! They interviewed him last night!”

“How...do you know?” Qrow squinted down at her.

“What? Don’t you research who we’re gonna fight against?” Summer questioned. “No? Just me. Ok. Well, do you at least watch the news?”

“No.”

“Well, ok. Fine.”

Qrow turned to look at the young man. James was his name apparently. He was a student like him. Sure, he’d never heard of Atlas outside of lectures, but that didn’t matter. He was a hunter like him. Well...almost like him. So tall, so strong, so handsome...he’d kill to be anything like that. All he had was his strength with a sword, and his weird stork-like appearance. Not that that was anything to write home about or anything. This guy? This guy was--

“Why don’t you go talk to him?” Summer suggested with a gentle smile.

“What?” Qrow wheezed, looking down at her with a spooked look. “I can’t--I don’t--ah.”

“I think you can do it.” she grinned. “Better than sneaking around, that’s for sure.”

Qrow shook his head, pulling back behind the statue to scowl in privacy. His hand once again ran through his hair, his gaze focusing down at the floor.

“Mm...I’m not good at uh...talking like you. I don’t...know what to say.”

“Well…” she hummed, placing her hands on her hips. “You have to give yourself more credit. Just at the beginning of the year you could barely say your own name. Now you’re talking full sentences and you’re actually now like, well--you actually know what you’re doing. You’re not the same kid who didn’t know anything but how to hold a sword. You can do other things now, too. This is easy stuff!”

Qrow looked at her face, an anxious but hopeful look present upon his features.

“I’ll go with you, if you want?” Summer offered.

Qrow’s smile finally appeared. A gentle, earnest smile that barely curved across his lips, accentuated by eyes filled with hope and excitement. Even if he didn’t know what he was doing, he had to learn just like everyone else. Summer would be there with him too. That wouldn’t be too bad, then--

“Good!” Summer cheered. She grabbed his hand, suddenly giving a firm tug. 

Qrow stumbled over his own feet, unable to fight against the stronger young huntress. He was forced to be dragged over to where that young man was, now watching them both with a startled expression. Qrow couldn’t hide the fear that now wafted from his body--he needed more time! He couldn’t just go out and do it now without preparation. What was he going to say? Did he look well put together? Oh god, he was getting closer--

“Helloooooo!” Summer waved with her free hand. James cut himself off from the other students he was speaking with, flicking blue eyes towards them. Qrow choked, feeling the air knock clean out of his lungs. 

His eyes were so blue.

“Hello.” James smiled sweetly, looking between the two of them. His eyes settled on Qrow’s, and he instinctively swallowed, recalling now that the other knew he had been watching him. Not that it wasn’t obvious, but his scrambling shards of hope had slipped away.

“You’re going to be in the tournament, right?” Summer questioned, releasing Qrow’s hand finally.

“That’s right. I’m representing Atlas Academy.” James hummed proudly. A slick smile came to his face, causing Qrow’s heart to flutter. “You must be Beacon Academy’s students, correct?”

“Yep! I’m Summer, leader of Team STRQ.” she boasted, placing her hands on her hips. “And this is--”

“Qrow.” the pale huntsman muttered out, interrupting her. He swallowed, looking back over to the young man. Qrow’s eyes seemed harsh, calculating, but his posture was loose and his hands were in his pockets. He seemed more nervous than offensive.

“It’s nice to meet you both.” James chuckled. “I’m James Ironwood. I’m one of the seniors participating in this tournament.”

“Ooooh…” Summer hummed, looking back to Qrow. “You hear that? Looks like we have some actual competition. Atlas Senior versus Beacon Freshmen. That’s going to be the fight of the year.”

“Freshmen?” James echoed. “Ah. That is going to be an interesting fight. It’s been years, I read, since Freshmen were good enough to make it to the tournament.”

Qrow raised an eyebrow, before a gentle smirk appeared.

“I don’t intend to lose.” Qrow snickered. “Senior or not, I’m not losing.”

“Is that so?” James challenged, his own playful smile widening a bit on his features. “So, is that what you were doing just a few minutes ago? Just...scoping out the competition, then? Sneaking around and spying on me? Because I don’t think I know you.”

Qrow’s smirk faltered, and he instead swallowed harshly. In a quick response, he pushed his bangs out of his face and flashed a smile.

“Well, I think you’d like to know me.”

Summer’s jaw dropped, and the students behind James began to mutter softly in amusement. James, however, turned a rather bright shade of red. The Atlesian student swallowed the lump in his throat, and the long pause of him searching for his words made Qrow wheeze softly.

“So, James.” Qrow continued breathlessly, quickly filling in the pause of silence. He repeated the earlier motion, running his fingers through his short choppy hair. A crooked smile spread across his face. “You need someone to show you around here? I know a good place to get a cup of coffee, if you’d want to join me. My treat.”

The whispers of the students around them, with more now gathering closer, began to echo in his head in increasing volume. Surely it was a sight to see the socially awkward and at times violent outcast attempt to flirt with the famous prodigy James Ironwood. Qrow Branwen was a misfit, one that certainly drove most of the other student body away from him in droves. He didn’t understand social cues or boundaries, he was prone to picking fights and solving things in an aggressive manner, and he frankly didn’t seem to be very smart in a school for gifted huntsmen in training. 

James Ironwood was the exact opposite. He was handsome, he was soft spoken, he was good with his words. With ease he’d work his way through a conversation, and have an agreeable outcome. He knew his way around a battlefield as well, taking home many local and state awards for his combative skills. At the top of his class, he had won the favor of the current standing General, and it wouldn’t take much to assume that he was now being prepared for the position despite not graduating just yet. It was as if he were a celebrity not just in Atlas, but here in this student body as well. 

“Sure.” James replied suddenly. That blush still rested on his cheeks, permeated by his shy, suddenly boyish expression. 

Qrow released a tight wheeze from his lungs, blinking back up at James.

“When did you...uh...want to go?” James followed up, taking a slow step closer to him. His confidence wavered, voice beginning to crumble. “I’m, uh, free at around one, if you wanted to go then. Or something. Tonight is a scheduled training that I can’t really miss. If you’re, uh, ok with that. I mean.”

Qrow stole a small glance at Summer, who gave a teasing wink.

“Yeah. That, uh, sounds good.” Qrow nodded.

“I’ll meet you at the main square, then?” James questioned. “Near the road where the ships come in? The uh--shipping docks. Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Qrow agreed.

A small beep was heard. James lifted up his wrist, pulling his sleeve back to reveal a large, silver watch. After a moment, he hummed, turning off the alarm with a flick of his finger.

“Ah. I have a meeting I need to go to--” he informed him, looking back at Qrow. He gave him that sweet smile once more. “I have to get going. But I’ll see you then. One o’clock, in the square.”

Qrow only managed a weak “ok”, watching as James turned and walked back towards the main tower of Beacon Academy. A few of the other students took another look back at Qrow, before beginning to disperse. Their fun was over, and now it was time to mutter in disbelief over the loner’s strange success.

Very slowly, Qrow took a small step back. He rested a loose fist on his sternum, following James’ head until he walked out of sight. His heart was thumping so fast, so hard...it made it hard to breathe and made his stomach knot up. What was happening to him? He had never felt this way...he felt as if he were about to pass out. Those feelings from before came back, only so much more severe and crippling. God, he felt so sick...yet so good, so relieved, so...happy.

“When did you learn to get so smooth?” Summer piped up. There was a bright, eager expression, scooting even closer to him.

“I...I think I blacked out.” Qrow blanched. “I don’t know what just happened.”

“You just got a date with the most popular guy like...ever.” Summer cackled. She slipped her arm around his, tugging him closer to her. He stumbled just a bit, staggering against her. “I don’t know how the hell you just did it, but you did. Look at you! My baby Qrow’s growing up! Ready to fly out of the nest.”

“Summer--” Qrow groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Come on!” Summer tugged him again. “We need to get you ready for your date! You can’t go out looking like this!”

“What’s the matter with the way I look?” Qrow blinked. He walked with Summer, following her lead back to the dorms.

“Nothing! There’s just...room for improvement.” she hummed. “Brush your hair a little, put on a nice shirt, shine your shoes...oh, and wash your face. No one likes to see a greasy face.”

“Summer!” Qrow exhaled, letting her practically drag him.

==

Qrow’s eyes snapped open. A strangled gasp left his throat, the glass window in front of his face fogging up immediately. His lungs tightened and his head began to spin. Quickly he placed his hand on the bar near the top of the inner hull, leaning heavily against the wall. What the hell was that? He didn’t even feel like he was in his own body. His arm still felt warm, still able to feel Summer holding onto him. Goosebumps spread across his skin, and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck.

What just happened to him? Why was he thinking about that now? That was...years ago. Over twenty years ago. It was as if he were back to being a teenager again for that brief moment, back to being a student. That wasn’t just a recalled memory, more like some sort of flashback. As if he were actually relieving that moment. He reconciled over the past often...but why did it come so suddenly just now? And so vividly, too?

Qrow swallowed the heavy lump in his throat. Why was he thinking about the first time meeting James…? That was...that was long ago. They weren’t the same. They weren’t kids anymore. That time was long since past. The young man that Qrow had spent practically every day with whenever he was in Vale, learning about each other, and sharing all of his secrets with...that young man wasn’t there anymore. He ran a country now, he didn’t have time for such pleasantries as friendship or something more.

But damn. He’d give anything to go back to that time, even for just a little bit. No responsibilities, no pressure, no nothing. Just the eagerness of waiting for James’ arrival to spend just a bit of time with him. Meeting him at the docks, immediately dragging him to go get a cup of coffee (which quickly became their tradition), and spending the precious time they had chatting away about nothing.

This James that ran the damn country...he had to get through to him. They knew each other for so long. He had no other choice. He was the only one that could get to James. Not the General, but James. He knew he was the only one left who could do this.

He glanced to the side, still seeing Robyn and Fiona hovering over Clover. It took him another moment to return to reality. That’s right. He wasn’t back at Beacon, he was back in the ship heading to Atlas. Their fight against Salem. That’s where he was. So then why was he seeing things now…?

A bolt of pain shot through his skull, and Qrow grimaced through gnashed teeth. For a split second, the warmth of the crackling fireplace and the hardwood he sat on filled his senses. The aroma of fresh pastries, hot coffee wafting up and warming his face, and the gentle drone of the ceiling fan above him.

When his eyes snapped open, James sat across from him. His loud laughter echoed in the nook of the coffee shop, loud enough that his heart trembled within his ribcage. The young man shook his head, holding the styrofoam cup of coffee delicately within his large hands. Next to them, the log split and the embers of the fireplace sparked.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Qrow.” James snickered, his blue eyes flickering open to gaze at him. “You’re absolutely incredible. Do you know that? Ah. I almost wish I didn’t have to go back to the Ace-Op’s work on Monday. I don’t think I’m ready to return to Atlas quite yet--”

Qrow opened his mouth to speak, yet with the force of a simple puff of air, the memory once again vanished. James disappeared from view, fading into the features of Clover resting on the floor before him. The young, smiling face was replaced by the unconscious, sickly pale look of the injured Ace-op. The warmth of the coffee shop seeped out of his bones, replaced by the harsh chill of the Atlas air permeating the ship. The whir of the fan was replaced by Clover’s raspy gasps for air.

“Qrow? What’s gotten into you?” a voice broke through the haze.

Qrow wheezed painfully, blinking a few times. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring back that brief dream. Not a dream, no...but it felt too real to be a distant memory. Rather, it felt like something else entirely. For only a second, he felt as if he were back there with James. A young man again, spending time with his best friend. Not trapped on this ship, fighting for their lives. As if he were actually back there...what was happening to him?

“Hey, Qrow!” Robyn snapped again. Qrow turned his head to look back at her, his jaw left agape as he desperately tried to get air to his lungs. That tightness of the old binder still squeezed at his chest--what the hell was going on?

“Ah--” Qrow swallowed, shaking his head a few times. He ran his fingers through his hair quickly in a vain attempt to recompose himself. He settled his gaze on Clover, counting each one of his unsteady, shallow breaths. He was still alive. There was time. “Sorry. Uh. Just. Tired.”

“You looked like you were going to pass out.” Robyn grimaced. “I can’t take care of two of you. Not with James still destroying this city.”

James…

Qrow sniffed harshly, looking back out the frosted window. The looming spire of the general’s building was slowly coming into view, visible amongst the clouds and the swarm of grimm in the air. Despite all the chaos within Atlas, the building remained untouched. It wasn’t too late. Salem wasn’t here yet.

His heart pounded painfully in his chest, but gave him the strength to stand up straight and move towards the door.

“What are you doing--?” Robyn called, Fiona peeking over from where she was working beside Clover.

“This is my stop.” Qrow grunted harshly. He brushed his thumb against the pin, strangely warm against him. 

“You don’t mean to jump out?” Fiona gasped.

“You’re going to get eaten alive by those grimm!” Robyn snapped. “You’re--”

“I’ll be fine.” Qrow interrupted. His hand moved to rest on the handle, squeezing it tightly. “Just do what I asked you to do. Get Clover to the hospital. I’ll be there soon. But I need to fix this first.”

“Qrow--!”

The door was pushed open. The vacuum of air whipped inside the hull of the ship, and before it could drag all of them out, he launched himself out. In a flurry of feathers, the black bird shot across the sky, heading towards the spire in the center of Atlas.


	8. Chapter 8

So it’s come to this, then.

Past the gentle drips of melting ice on the ceiling and clinging to the walls, the gentle hum of the dust motor within his metal chestplate echoed in his head. Each breath brought in the crackling of his artificial lung, and each pump of his strangled heart beat clicked against whirring cogs. Those sounds seemed deafening, and he was so painfully aware of the dust wires in his broken half, melded with his remaining scarred and torn flesh.

James’ skin broiled under his thick uniform. His head tilted back, and he released a pained gasp up towards the roof. The spears of ice loomed over him, slowly coming down closer, closer to his burning face. His breath fogged up, drifting and rising to meet those icicles that threatened to pierce right through him.

“No, no no…” James croaked. His metal hand touched at his collar to try to loosen it, but as soon as the cold steel touched his scalding skin, he recoiled back from his own grasp. He howled in frustration and fear, pulling his shaking prosthetic away from his face. Within his cast, his bound and destroyed fingers trembled painfully.

“How could this--how could this happen!?” he barked out. 

Before him, the broken shards of his scroll lay before the relic’s chamber. The massive doors remained shut tight, without even a scratch or a blemish to mar its features. There it held no evidence of his violent fury only a few minutes prior.

“This can’t--! No! This can’t be happening!” James said breathlessly. A few locks of his hair fell in his face, his jaw hanging open as he desperately sucked in the frosted air. His remaining lung burned, and he could feel the artificial one struggle to balloon up. Threatening to burst, not working right, not behaving as it should--why would that clicking not stop? That ringing in his ear--he had no mechanics in his head, but he could feel the whirring of cogs just beneath his skin.

So loud so loud so loud.

“Dammit!”

James smashed his metal fist into the pristine door. Out bellowed a hollow thunderous gong, reverberating up his arm and rattling in his chest and bouncing off of the icy walls around him. He flinched away, raising his balled hand up to try and cover his ear to block out the painfully loud noise. Through squinted eyes, he could see that not even a dent presented upon the door.

There was no access into the chamber. Winter had only just informed him of her failure, of the children’s betrayal. Their dishonesty, their cruelty, their cunning revolt against him. They wished to see him fall, wished to see Atlas plummet into the ground. It was what they all wanted from the beginning. All of the people in Atlas and Mantle were praying for his demise, and with Salem breathing down his neck, they were going to get that soon. 

Those young ones--they wanted that power for themselves. They didn’t want to give to the good of the people. No, they wanted that power for their own grace and strength. Why else would they take it from him? The only thing he lived to do was to protect what was most important. 

But why did it even matter? Why did any of this matter anymore? The entire world was against him from the very start, before he even became General. No one wanted him to succeed. No one wanted him to be the hero, to save the world from mortal danger. Everyone was simply getting in the way of doing what was right--

Another machine whirred, but it wasn’t coming from within him this time. It tore through the haze permeating his brain, and coaxed him to slowly turn away from the chamber towards the source. His blue eyes flickered up, gazing to the elevator that he had only just previously came down on, to see the platform now descending towards him. His weight shifted back on his prosthetic foot, hand resting on the remaining gun at his belt.

Who had come down here? He hadn’t permitted anyone to follow him. None except the Winter Maiden. Yet she had fled, had stolen away his last chance at saving everyone. Had someone come down here to finish the job, to end him? To take him out of whatever higher plan was dragging all of them along?

Through the dim light, he could recognize a figure.

James allowed some of the tension to leave his sore muscles. Yes, he could point him out anywhere. Even after all these years. Tall and lanky, mused graying hair, dark clothes...it was Qrow. It had to be. He found himself feeling rather relieved, rather comforted knowing a friend was coming down to -- hopefully -- aid him.

“Qrow…” James wheezed, his hand moving off the holster of his gun. “It is so, so good to see you here. I really do mean it...have you--?”

James’ words cut off as Qrow grew closer. The elevator continued to lower down to his level, and it was then that he could see him better. Exhaustion clearly tugged at the huntsman’s form. He looked almost sickly, sicker than usual--his pale skin was practically glowing against the dark bruises and even darker circles under his eyes. He looked as if he could barely stand any longer.

Yet what had yanked his attention was the bright red and still damp blood that plastered Qrow’s front. Soaking through his clothes and forming a thick layer over the skin of his arms and even encroaching his neck and face...he could feel a lump beginning to creep up into his throat. So much blood, so much damage. How could Qrow even stand any longer? Such an egregious wound would cause any human to falter.

He took a step closer, extending a hand out to grasp onto him. 

“Qrow--” James began. “What happened to you?”

Qrow released a strangled noise as the elevator came to a stop at that final level. He lunged off the platform, quickly taking long strides to meet where James stood by the door. As he moved, reflecting against the dim light of the ice was a metal pin placed on his breast. Upon closer attention, James recognized the shape of the ornament and its hue of green. Even caked with a similarly thick layer of blood to the stains on Qrow’s shirt and skin, James easily retained the image of Clover’s prized brooch.

In an instant, the General’s own blood ran cold and his heart began to beat painfully quickly. It echoed in his head, pumping blood to his ears, and causing his vision to swim. Qrow’s image before him blurred, and he couldn’t hear him calling out to him.

“--mes, we gotta go--not much time--!”

Ah, so much blood. He felt as if he were about to vomit, suddenly. The stench filled his nose, and caused his stomach to knot up painfully. Within his skull, the pressure grew, pressing harder and harder against him. 

That blood on his person wasn’t his own. No. That was another man’s. Another who he had been with on a mission previously to apprehend a criminal. His best man, his strongest soldier, his prized utility...splayed on the chest of a ruthless, coldblooded, violent huntsman, adorned with a trophy of his kill.

Behind him, he felt the shadows of the massive door loom above him.

A clammy hand touched his mechanical wrist, and in that moment, James’s attention was wrought forward. In an instant, his bandaged hand ripped from its sling and snatched on tightly to Qrow’s wrist. He squeezed hard, hard enough he could feel the other man seize and his bones crunch beneath his fingers.

“James--!” Qrow choked out. He quickly reared back, yanking his arm to try and free it from his grasp, to no avail.

“What have you done?” James growled out. He took a step closer, yanking Qrow forward to prevent him from escaping. The sudden aggression caught the other man off guard, snapping his head up to stare at him in disbelief.

“What are you--?” Qrow wheezed. “James, stop!”

“Don’t take me for a fool! You’re brazen enough to come down here soaked in my best man’s blood?” James snapped. “--alone, as well, without another soul here! Even wearing his very charm--”

“James--” Qrow whispered lowly. He didn’t make a move to pull away, instead gazing back up at him with a firm, yet almost desperate look. His jaw was set in a tight line, meeting his harsh glare.

“What have you done, Qrow?!” James repeated. He squeezed Qrow’s wrist once more, inciting a twitch of pain across his features.

“I didn’t hurt him.” Qrow responded slowly, each word sounding calculated and precise. It seemed as if he were holding himself back from losing control, himself. Yet his eyes betrayed that, glazed over with an emotion that James didn’t care to pin down.

He licked his lips, his grasped wrist flexing as his fingers curled into a tight fist. 

“Tyrian managed to cause our ship to crash down in one of the ice fields.” He began, still speaking in that careful tone. “Clover tried to stop him, and he got hurt. I tried to stop Clover--” he swallowed harshly, blinking a few times. “--but I couldn’t. Clover got hit, and I told Robyn to get him help. I didn’t hurt him, I didn’t--”

“And you expect me to believe that?” James snapped. “What man is bold enough to come down here covered in blood with Clover’s pin? Only you! You’ve always been so reckless, so dangerous--”

“I didn’t hurt him!” Qrow repeated angrily. He tore his wrist away from his injured hand, a dark bruise already creeping along where he had been grabbed. In a quick movement, he put some space between him and James, stepping away from him.

A sharp, bitter laugh slipped past James’ lips. With a slow, lumbering step, he moved closer to Qrow, his injured arm hanging at his side. His robotic limb returned to rest lightly on his gun, blue eyes nailed down upon the opposing man. Fingers curled at the handle, not yet unholstering it.

“I knew I was wrong to trust you.” James hissed softly. “After all these years, after all the harm you’ve caused...I knew that I couldn’t just look past it any longer. And yet I let you go with one of my most trusted allies.”

“James.” Qrow practically begged, his voice pitching up higher. His hands rose in a submissive position, but he did not approach him. “Please. Just listen to me. I didn’t mean for this to happen. We need to--”

“You never do.” James snarled, rising in volume with each word. “You never “mean” to cause trouble. But it follows you. It always has. Everything bad that’s ever happened to us is your fault. I knew that you shouldn’t have been part of this operation. You always bring problems with you! 

That damn semblance--no, it's not even just that! You’re too damn uncontrollable! All these years--”

“Fucking hell, James!” Qrow howled suddenly. His red eyes seemed to burn with a strange show of emotion, face twisting into rage and betrayal. “I didn’t come here to start this shit with you! If we don’t get out of here, we’ll all be killed by Salem!”

“Why do you think I’m here in the first place?” James hissed. “I’m here trying to stop her, and you’re only getting in my way. First you’ve struck down my most valuable soldier, and now you’ve come to stop me as well. I don’t have time to deal with your nonsense, and fix your mistakes any longer.”

“It’s not--Clover’s not just a--It’s--” Qrow shook his head quickly, gnashing his teeth together. His grip on his control was slipping, and James could see easily. His muscles twitched under his skin, a soft snarl leaving his throat, and how his hands flinched and almost groped at his weapon...truly he had come to kill him, hadn’t he? His best friend...no, perhaps he never really was. This man was a danger, and had come here to bring doom to him. Just as he always has.

James’ fingers rested on the handle of his gun, prepared to swing it out.

“Listen to me.” Qrow snarled out, a wild look in his eyes as he snapped back to him. “Salem is coming. Right now. Whatever you’re doing here, it’s not going to work! Your plan to bring Atlas into the sky...none of it is going to work! It’s--fuck--it’s just going to get us all killed! You’re just wasting time down here! You need to get your head out of your ass and stop drowning in your own fear and just--”

In an instant, James was in front of Qrow. The glint of the silver gun flashed in his face, mere inches away from his temple. Withheld in his features was an expression twisted in rage, a lip curled in a fierce snarl, and the looming figure with muscles tight and trembling and ready to leap. His injured hand shook, hovering over his chest in an attempt to snatch onto his collar, but unable to coax his fingers to do such a deed.

He could feel Qrow take in a sharp breath, sucking in the air through pursed lips. His head tilted back a bit to meet his eyes, locking onto his with that reoccuring look of betrayal and abhorrent shock. The words stopped pouring out, and instead he remained quiet, pushed into a corner of tentative, anxious silence. Yet, however, he did not back down or retreat, instead steeling himself and standing firmly in place.

“You still think I’m afraid.” James rasped harshly, his index resting against the trigger.

Qrow blinked slowly up at him, setting his jaw.

“You’re going to listen to me.” James commanded. “I am done letting others' inability to see the big picture get in the way of doing what’s right. I am the only one who understands what's going on and what needs to be done. If I have no one else that I can trust, no one to rely on and stand beside me, then so be it. I won’t let another man stand in my way. And that includes you, Qrow.”

Qrow’s nose wrinkled up, and he didn’t flinch as he heard the gun click. A disgusted, frustrated look flashed across his face, however, and the red of his eyes seemed to burn with a sudden, strange intensity. His breathing grew loud and audible, his lip curling up into his own harsh snarl. A glimpse of sharp teeth were revealed, and the sight took James back briefly. Before he could even consider his next move, venomous words were spilled.

“No one to rely on? No one to stand beside you? No one you can trust?” Qrow echoed bitterly. He snarled dangerously, appearing very much like a violent animal for a few moments. “Is that what you really think? What you really fucking think? After all this time?”

James didn’t react, merely setting his jaw in waiting.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” Qrow barked out a hoarse laugh. “You have no clue what you have. No clue at all. God, James.”

“I don’t have anything!” James howled in his face. “I have nothing! It’s me against the world, against Salem, and I have only myself to rely on! No--”

“Tell that to Clover!” Qrow cut him off. He leaned forward to close the remaining short distance between them, his nose practically brushing against his as he howled at him. “You go and walk up to Clover and tell him that! He said he was willing to die for you, to lay himself on the line for what you stood for, and he ended up being killed for that! I saw him die before, he did die for you! I saw the life bleed out of him after he lost his life to protect what you believe in! He followed your fucking order to the grave! And he was willing to do it all over again! No matter what I did, he was going to lose his life in your fucking name!”

In that instant, James’ face twitched, and the gun dropped from Qrow’s temple. He blinked rapidly a few times, the air dragged out of his lungs from his scathing words. That sudden outburst had given him enough shock to reel back and pause in his own racing thoughts. That train crashed hard into the wall of Qrow’s rambling confession, leaving him suspended.

The only palpable thoughts were Qrow’s repeated cries of Clover’s death. What? What did he mean that Clover lost his life? Only moments ago he was crying that he did not hurt him, that he did not kill him. Had he been lying to him then? Was he lying to him now? Was he trying to make him falter? 

“Clover died for you!” Qrow continued, tears building up once more. “Clover fucking--he fucking died for you! And you have the nerve to say that you have no one?! Clover died in my arms! All while following your crazy and selfish orders!”

Qrow shook his head, laughing sadly.

“Everyone’s fucking dead. Everyone’s going to die and all you can talk about is how it's you against the world. Guess what, pal? You lose. The world’s going to shit, and you’re just going to sit here and wallow in your own delusions. You’re so stupid, you can’t realize the world is falling apart around you, and you’re sitting here hiding away from it all.”

The gun was lowered, James’ expression softening into one of confusion and strange sadness. No, Qrow wasn’t lying to him. He hadn’t seen him express this much emotion since...since Summer had died, and he had escaped to Atlas to lament his loss to him. These words felt strangely similar to that grief. It was enough to slowly drag him out of that pause in thought, gazing down at him.

Qrow pulled away, laughing once more. A few stray tears dripped down his face, and his bruised hand pressed against his forehead and slipped into matted locks of hair.

“You’re just sitting here. Salem’s on her way, and you’re sitting here, trying to blow out my brains. Oh god. Oh god, oh god. She’s going to win again. She’s going to smash Atlas into the ground and flatten Remnant. Everyone’s going to die again. And I can’t do anything to stop it. You don’t believe me. You never believe me--”

“Qrow?” James spoke, his voice lacking its very previous bite and bark. It was soft, hesitant, dripping with a hazy confusion. His hand fell back to his side, his gaze pinned down upon Qrow as his incessant rambling picked up speed. “What...are you talking about?”

Qrow released a quick puff of air through his nostrils, pulling away. He muttered under his breath, his back to James, as he began to pace. Fingers threaded repeatedly through his hair, footsteps shaky and uneven.

“I can’t do this...can’t do this. Oh god. I can’t watch everyone die again. I can’t watch you fall with the rest of this city. Please. Oh god. I can’t.”

“Qrow--”

“Everyone’s relying on me. I can’t let them down, but I can’t do this--I can’t do all of this. I almost lost Clover again, and I’ll lose you too. Once Salem’s here, that’s it, it’s over...we can’t beat her, we can’t stop her, we can’t stop this--”

“Qrow!” James’s voice rose above the other man’s frantic words. Just as he moved only moments earlier, he strode up towards Qrow and crossed in front of him. His robotic limb grasped onto his wrist, this time not squeezing in a crushing grip, but in one that he hoped would be reassuring.

Qrow quickly turned around to stare up at him, his eyes wide. Trauma glistened in his gaze, mouth hanging open as he desperately gulped in mouthfuls of air, blinking away the tears that began to slip down his grimey cheeks. His fingers twitched in his grip, but he didn’t move to tear away so fast just yet. Instead, he stared up into James’s face, struggling to catch his breath and keep some air of composure.

James slowly shifted his weight, gingerly squeezing his wrist when he saw that he wasn’t pulling away. His own breathing began to slow, meeting Qrow’s eyes and feeling the sudden weight of emotion that he felt. It pressed hard on his chest, twisting and knotting at his heart, and bringing him back to reality for only a few fleeting moments. The previous paranoia and anxiety began to shed away, giving him a brief reprieve to narrow his attention at the man before him. 

If only for a beat, he forgot about the calamity just outside. Terror reigning down upon his city, betrayal against him by his own men, and the threat of destruction at Salem’s hands looming in the distance all began to fall away. Revealed before him was the sniffling man, and he couldn’t help but mourn their years and years of history.

So long they had known each other...how many years had it been now? Qrow had never cried like this in front of him. This...craziness...was not like him, not what he had seen from him before. It wasn’t natural, wasn’t normal. Such a fact was concerning enough to him.

“Qrow…” James repeated, allowing his thumb to gingerly stroke across the bony prominence of his wrist. “What’s...what’s happening, Qrow? Talk to me.”

“I can’t.” Qrow sobbed out, his voice cracking under pressure.

“You can talk to me.” James urged. “You need to. Please. What are you trying to tell me?”

“It’s no--you never--” Qrow shook his head with a strangled whine. “You never listen to me in the first place! You never fucking listen!”

James couldn’t summon an answer at that. Before he could even process what he had said, he continued.

“I saw Clover die, I saw you die--everyone is dead. I saw everyone die, right before my eyes.” Qrow lamented, the tears continuing to fall. “Salem won. S-She won. I couldn’t do anything to stop her. After you rose Atlas up into the sky, she stole the relic and--”

James blinked slowly, listening with an intense look upon his features.

“--she turned Atlas into a meteor. She sent Atlas crashing down, crushing Mantle and flattening half of Remnant. Everything is destroyed. Everything is gone. Salem won. She won. And she’s going to do it again, because you won’t fucking listen to me!”

Qrow hunched forward, the rest of any attempted words dissolving into traumatized, pained sobs and weeps of grief. His free hand pressed into his face, his other one gripped into James’s iron fingers. His knees nearly buckled, and he shook painfully, unable to do anything more than cry.

“I didn’t know.” James breathed out. His heart pounded against his scarred, prosthetic ribcage, threatening to burst out of his sternum. Each quivering wail that released from Qrow’s throat sent a stab of pain within James’ bloodstream, rousing a strange emotion he hadn’t felt in...in so long, he couldn’t recall.

“You never fucking listen to me!” Qrow howled, not raising his head up to face him. “You only listen to yourself! You don’t fucking listen to me! You never do! You--You only--You don’t--”

Qrow’s words dissolved back into weeping coughs, and James felt strangely troubled at his accusations.

They rang with a strange hint of truth, enough to make him release the trapped air in his lungs in a low, tired exhale.

“I don’t...” James realized. “I don’t listen to you.”

Ah.

Whatever Qrow was saying didn’t make a lick of sense--was he finally losing it? Was he finally going crazy?--and yet he found himself believing every breath of it. Whatever this was had him traumatized enough that he was nearly crumbled over in grief and agony. Whatever strange sort of delusions that Qrow was sobbing over seemed to have a strange ring of truth to them.

“...then let me fix that now.” James suddenly spoke. He leaned forward, taking his burnt hand and lightly brushing it against his chest. The mid drying blood smeared against his white gloves, but he paid it no mind as he shakily slid it up towards his shoulder, close to his neck.

He tilted his head down, trying to catch a glance of Qrow’s tear stained face.

“Let me listen to you now.”

With a great deal of effort, Qrow finally pulled his head up to stare back at James. His eyes were red and swollen, cheeks a similar dark color, and smeared with his consistently falling tears. But he finally did meet James’s attention, staring up at him.

“What is happening, Qrow?” James urged, his fingers settling in a smooth grip over his wrist.

“Salem is coming--she’s coming now.” Qrow choked out. His voice was hoarse, throat tightly constricted, but he still fought against it to speak clearly to him. “She’s going to use your plan against you. She’s going to smash Atlas back into the ground after you’ve brought it up to space. She’s going to destroy everything if we don’t move now.”

“How do you know this?” James questioned, his eyes narrowing. Something within his chest tightened once more, palpable with the fear that he tried so desperately to smother. Despite how insane his words sounded, he once again found himself believing them.

“Because I lived through it once already.” Qrow immediately responded. He sniffed hard, picking his head up fully to stand up straight in front of the general. “I lived through Salem’s attack, and I saw it happen. I saw everyone I care about die right in front of me. Oscar used Ozpin’s magic to turn back the clock. Go back in time twelve hours before it all went to shit. It’s probably--six hours by now. Maybe more, maybe less.”

“What?” James breathed out. His grip on Qrow’s wrist loosened, but the man still did not pull away right away. Instead, he trembled in his grip, his gaze waver and seeming to see through him instead of at him. He could practically see the man fall apart again right before his eyes. Was it having to relieve whatever sort of grandiose daydreams that he believed?

No, what Qrow was saying made no sense. Ozpin’s magic? Ozpin may have been a man high above all of them in terms of his skills and his intelligence, spanning generations and lifetimes, but for him to have the ability to time travel? No. That was ridiculous. Was this all just some sort of spin to try to get him to trust him? To get him to leave the chambers they were in? To try and distract him and make him waver?

Those paranoid thoughts returned to James’s head without his consent. His heart picked up speed, and he took in a sharp breath of response. Qrow’s face blurred, and he felt himself spiralling.

Qrow was making up stories to get him to leave the chamber, to leave the relic and take it for himself. Yes, that had to be it! He had killed Clover, his source of good luck and the strongest man he had at his disposal, and had come to dispose of him next. Qrow had always been a wild, feral individual, more of an animal than a man. He was unpredictable and savage, hiding behind his air of humanity, when in reality, James knew what he was capable of. He had come to take advantage of him and destroy him.

The wrist he was holding was pulled away from his tightening grip. It tore him out of his thoughts, his lips curling up in a snarl as he narrowed his eyes down at Qrow. All of his returning anger and fury came swirling back in a violent storm.

Yet, just as his muscles tightened and he prepared to strike, Qrow moved first.

The slim man’s arms snatched around his broad chest, and he felt his body press right up against his. He squeezed as tight as he could, nearly knocking the air clean out of his lungs. Hot breath was felt against his neck, with a damp cheek brushing his skin. Qrow pulled him as close as he possibly could, practically trying to melt into him.

James breathed hard against Qrow, his hands hovering over him. No, no! What was he doing!? Was this another part of his plan! No! What was this? What was happening?

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Qrow rasped hoarsely, voice muffled from his face in the man’s shoulder. “I wasn’t there when you needed me. I’m so sorry. Please...I can’t lose you again. Please just...let me help you…”

James wheezed out an exhale, and with, he felt some of the stress seep out of his skin. As if Qrow’s weight and presence dragged out that terrible pit of foul emotions that had dragged back up. He could feel the man’s heart frantically beating through his ribcage, practically reverberating against his metal chest cavity. Each heavy thump lingered, slowly grounding him and returning him back to a more subdued state.

“You’re a good man, I know you are. Why do you think I came back?” Qrow whispered. “I trust you, even despite everything, I still trust you. So just...please, trust me back, James.”

Qrow squeezed even tighter, and James felt damp lips press a kiss right under his jaw, right above the thick collar of the uniform.

“It’s ok to be afraid. Just...please don’t shut me out. I’m here for you, I’m not leaving you…”

When was...the last time he had been held in such a way? Spoken so softly, so gently…? Promised that he would be the one that would be protected and safe?

And just like that, the raging storm within him was sucked out. His knees shook and his arms trembled, slowly raising up to wrap his arms around Qrow’s body in return. He felt solid underneath his grasp, and so warm. His crushing hug felt so comforting to him, something he hadn’t felt in so long.

James released a soft, strangled sob, letting his head fall forward against Qrow’s shoulder. The man’s pale fingers slid up, brushing through the general’s hair and beginning to quietly shush him.

“Hey, it's ok. It’s ok. I’m right here. We’re going to get through this...it’s ok…”

His tears fell freely, and his sobs echoed out through the chamber. As he fell apart, he sank further and further into Qrow’s grasp, and for the first time in what felt like years, he felt relief. His head was empty, filled instead by Qrow’s gentle consoles and hushed whispers. In that instant, he felt that they were the only two men in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and apologies for the delay in chapters. I usually write 3-4 chapters ahead, but got out of schedule due to this one. This one took two months of at least five rewrites until I was satisfied with it.
> 
> I want to thank everyone who's been commenting, leaving kudos, and reading this fic. It really means a lot to me to see so many people reading my work. Thank you so very much.


	9. Chapter 9

As James hunched forward, his arms still wrapped fully around Qrow’s slim form, he felt lighter than he had in weeks. Despite his quivering chest and desperate attempts to quell the tears that swelled up, he felt...strangely free. His arm didn’t ache, his stomach wasn’t in knots, and his lungs were so full of air he felt ready to float. Yet what kept him grounded in those moments was Qrow resting his weight against his chest. 

Perhaps the old saying was right; that you felt better after crying. James certainly did. It felt like they had been down there for hours, merely holding onto each other and weeping in grief. The relief he felt in those moments was practically euphoric. Time melted away, and it was only the love he felt and the absolutely stupid vulnerability he felt that remained. 

Had the looming threat of Salem not hover over the country, he had a feeling he would still be tucked away in Qrow’s arms, enjoying the brief salvation it gave him.

But they didn’t have that luxury. Not yet, anyways. Qrow knew what was going to happen, and they had the power to prevent it from coming to fruition. Qrow had something that no one else had right now, something that rivalled even Ozpin’s wisdom...knowledge of the future. He knew where Salem was coming from, how Salem would crush Mantle beneath Atlas, and that intel was enough to at least give them time to anticipate her moves. 

Hopefully it would--

James growled under his breath, nosing against Qrow’s mused hair to try to dispel the thought.

That gnawing doubt still clawed at the back of his skull. Qrow wouldn’t lie to him. He knew that. Not after everything they had been through together...Qrow was telling the truth. Every fiber of his being screamed that essence, that he spoke of an ominous fate. Something that scared him enough to have him break down before him. 

He just...had to trust him.

James slowly brought his metal fingers up towards Qrow, threading through his salt and pepper locks. He pushed his hair out of his face, allowing the other a pause to catch his breath. Qrow’s tear stained, reddened face gazed up at him in return, and very much like a cat, he leaned into his touches. Hiss eyes closed, gulping in lungfuls of air, as his hands rested in loose fists against James’ large chest.

James allowed his hand to settle at the base of Qrow’s neck, merely holding him for a few moments. He blinked slowly, descending back to a calm state. He felt warm among the icy cavern they were in. If he chose to believe, he could feel Qrow’s pulse throbbing against his prosthetic thumb.

“Qrow…”

“Yeah. Hold on.” Qrow rasped breathlessly. He licked his cracked lips, craning his head back even further--whether to breathe harder, or to simply lean into his touch, James couldn’t quite grasp. “Just...hold on. Give me another minute. Just one more.”

James slowly nodded. His burnt hand trembled, feeling the muscles spasming lightly as it hung loosely outside of his sling. The limb rested gently against Qrow’s side, trying to ignore the rough material of an old cape on exposed sinew. Yet, he found himself grateful for Qrow’s request for more time. He didn’t think he himself was ready to go out and face Salem again...but it had to be done.

James ghosted his lips against the crown of his head, lingering there. Such warm affection, such unconditional love...a machine like him didn’t deserve any of this.

Qrow’s head suddenly bobbed up, causing James’ eyelids to flutter.

“Alright.” Qrow nodded, curling his hands tightly against James. He steeled himself, before looking up and meeting James’ gaze. Despite the redness and swelling from both exhaustion and his crying, that reassuring determination and strange calmness returned to his scarlet gaze. It was enough to send a shiver of unplaceable emotions down his spine and through his limbs.

“Alright?” James echoed.

“Alright.” Qrow repeated. “Take out your scroll. Bring up a map. I’m going to tell you exactly where she’s coming from, and where to put your men.”

“Ah.” James nodded slowly. He rested his burnt hand against Qrow’s hip, reaching to his side to pull out his scroll. He balanced it carefully in his one hand, opening it and bringing up the three dimensional map with his thumb. It flickered, showing what appeared to be a layered cake of Mantle, Atlas, and the buildings and structures upon both cities. Labelled were spots that James had already assigned ships and his men to, small blinking blips in the skies and in the streets. 

“Bring all your men here.” Qrow quickly drew a line on the Western border, by the airship docks. Left behind his finger was a solid red line, tracing the hangers and the runway paths. “This is where she’s coming from. She’s not here yet, so if we can set up and prepare, then we can take her by surprise. Get on the defensive right away instead of staying wide open. We’ll be ready for her here.”

“Are you sure that’s where she’ll be?” James asked cautiously.

“Positive.” Qrow nodded. “She broke through your defenses there, and it was all over.”

James visibly shivered.

He drew a circle around the western side, leaving behind another curved red line.

“Fortify your defenses here. We only have a few hours, and I saw her approaching already. She’s following the same path that she did last time.” he explained. “Our only chance is to patch up that hole with everything that you have. Any man, any aircraft, anything. Prevent her from getting in. She’s going to try to break in and destroy the chamber to get the relic. Once she gets the relic it’s all over.”

“Shouldn’t we be protecting the relic, then?” James challenged, feeling his heart begin to race fast enough to jump into his throat. He shifted his weight, taking in a few heavy breaths to try to quell that returning anxiety.Qrow’s gaze flickered up to his face.

“You tried that last time, and that sent Atlas plummeting into the earth like a meteor.” Qrow shot back. “Once she breaks into the Atlas border, that’s it. Nothing we can do can stop her. She’s already tearing apart the city with the Grimm that managed to get in. If that whale gets in, it's over.”

James set his jaw, gritting his teeth harshly.

“The only way that we can even think about stopping her in time is by stopping her before she even gets to the docks.” Qrow continued “She’ll have the upper hand if she breaks through, so we can’t let that happen. She set up one central attack in through the docks, and tore through the rest of the land as if it were nothing. That was without you helping us out--”

“So you think my men can stop her?” James questioned.

“It’s the only thing we got.” Qrow admitted. He exhaled softly, threading his fingers through his hair and pushing his bangs back. “Last time we saw her coming your guns and your ships didn’t have enough time to react and regroup before she smashed the city into pieces. We couldn’t do anything, and once you realized what was happening, it was too late. So the only chance we have is you on our side before she hits land. Anticipate her attack and retaliate immediately.”

James slowly let his gaze fall back to the map, gazing down at the red lines upon the holographic map. He saw the moving blips across the screen, of his men frantically trying to reel in the grimm that were already permeating the city. It was then in those moments that he realized just how spread out his artillery was. All across the city, so focused on protecting Atlas, that somehow, they had ended up being so thinly defended. And just as Qrow described, there was almost no activity on those western docks. A perfect opening for someone to break in…

How long had he left his men without a leader, without guidance? They were running in circles trying to plug a leak in a sinking ship. He had been sitting here trying to defend the staff, yet his city was falling apart around him. So many holes in his defenses, so scattered, so wild...Qrow’s story was becoming more and more believable by the second.

The map was closed, causing Qrow to startle. He looked up to James with a confused look, trying to decipher his stone features. The general’s thumb pressed against a button on the side of his scroll, bringing up what looked to be a transmission.

“James?”

“This is a direct order from General Ironwood; All units, move to a defensive position at the Western-Side Snowfront Airship Docks.” James ordered, speaking directly into the microphone of the device. “I repeat, all units, move to a defensive position at the Western-Side Snowfront Airship Docks--”

Qrow’s eyes widened, sucking in a sharp breath. His entire body shook with surprise, with disbelief, and strangely, relief. James’ gaze flickered to the other man, the hand still resting on Qrow’s hip curling as much as he could past the searing pain. He looked ready to collapse, as if whatever was holding him up was ripped out from under him.

The scroll was clicked shut.

“You believed me?” Qrow breathed out.

“You were right. I need to listen to others more.” James responded with a weak smile. “All this time...I was so determined to do what was right, I...I let my vision grow narrow, and I neglected to see everything else around me. I just wanted to protect Atlas, protect the world, and make the necessary decisions no one else could. I hadn’t even realized that...that I was missing important things right under my nose, leaving others in even more danger. I’ve been selfish, neglectful...”

Qrow gingerly rested a hand on his shoulder, fingers splaying against his neck. James’ eyelids fluttered, and he released a tense breath. His fingers were so cold on his throat, felt even through the thick collar of his jacket.

“All of this pressure--”

“It’s crushing, isn’t it?” Qrow questioned, cracking a weak smile.

James chuckled weakly.

“Yes. It is.”

Qrow’s hand moved from his neck, slipping easily against his cheek to cup his face. Without even thinking about what he was doing, James leaned into his palm, allowing his eyes to close. Despite clammy and cold from the blood and the snow, it was the softest thing he had touched in so long. When was the last time they had shared such a moment like this? Between just the two of them? So incredibly long. But perhaps--

“James.”

His eyes snapped open, ripped from his thoughts. Qrow’s thumb brushed against his skin, and smoothed into the thick hair of his beard. He smiled sadly, lingering upon him.

“Come on. We need to move. We’ll have time for this once we beat Salem.” he promised. Tears rimmed at his red eyes again, struggling to have that smile remain. “You, me, and Clover. We’ll all celebrate. We’ll make it through this, and we’ll celebrate. It’s a promise.”

Ah. Clover. That’s right. Why was he reminded of him suddenly, as Qrow’s hand rested upon his cheek?

“It’s a promise.” James responded. He moved his injured hand, brushing the pads of his fingers against the man’s knuckles.

With great reluctance, Qrow moved his hand away from his cheek. He took a slow step back, practically tearing himself away from the other man. James’ hand fell limp, empty, at his side.

“So I’ll meet you at the Western side, then?” Qrow confirmed.

“Yes.” James nodded.

“Alright.” Qrow nodded in return. His gaze hung back on James, and very carefully, he began to turn, walking back towards the elevator. James took a step forward, watching the other man walk away. He didn’t follow him just yet, simply watching him move farther and farther away.

As Qrow stepped onto the platform leading up to the surface, he turned to look back at James. A smirking, sneaking smile spread back upon his lips, crossing his arms against his chest.

“I’ll call you once I get there. So don’t take too long, old man.” he sneered.

Taken by surprise, James rumbled out a smooth laugh.

“You’re one to talk.” James teased in return. “Are you sure you don’t want to ride with me? You look about ready to collapse.”

“I’m fine. Promised the girls I’d meet them there, anyways!” he called, the platform slowly beginning to rise up. “You know how they’d get if I didn’t show up! Gotta show ‘em I made it out alive! Belly of the beast, and all that!”

James’ eyes rolled, shaking his head slowly. He took a few slow steps forward, following Qrow grow smaller as he rose up back to the surface. In those moments, he suddenly felt very small.

“Be careful, Qrow.” he whispered.

===

“This is a direct order from General Ironwood; All units, move to a defensive position at the Western-Side Snowfront Airship Docks.”

Clover groaned weakly from where he lay on the stretcher, his eyes struggling to blink open. The lights were practically blinding, bearing down above him. There was a low drone of some sort of machinery behind him, and thin, rough fabric strewn over his body along with sharp needles piercing his skin. Within his pocket, his phone vibrated, and was automatically put on speaker. 

“I repeat, all units, move to a defensive position at the Western-Side Snowfront Airship Docks--”

James…? What was going on? Why was everyone moving…?

“Fuck…” Clover hissed, beginning to awaken. His fingers fumbled around the tubing in his arm. He needed to move. He needed to help. He couldn’t just lay here…

The tubing was yanked out, and he felt the hot blood immediately bubble over and drip down his forearm.

===


	10. Chapter 10

Qrow wasn’t the young man he used to be. No, far from it. It had been a long while since he felt exhaustion pull at his bones with such a heavy weight as it did now. The fatigue he felt walking down to the relic’s chamber felt so distant and miniscule to what he felt now. With each flap of his wings he feared it would be his last, his small bird body struggling to keep up the pace. His frail chest fluttered, taking in desperate breaths as the buildings beneath him flew by in a frantic blur far down below.

As much as Qrow wanted to believe, the hardest part of his journey wasn’t done yet. The entire purpose of their mission, this whole travelling back in time thing, was coming to a head. The end was rapidly approaching, signified by the darkness encroaching on the city and the cloud of grimm off in the distance. Up ahead, little white blips were seen darting across the sky and heading in the direction of the shadows. From the loud engines echoing in the empty city, he realized it was James’ promised military.

Getting James on their side was only part of the plan. A necessary part, but not the end goal of their trial. With James, they had an actual chance of stopping Salem this time. They knew where she was coming from, the army was now mobilizing, James was leaving his rabbithole of the relic’s chamber...perhaps things would work out this time. 

It was their only chance at a victory--they were lucky enough to get this, and they couldn’t squander it.

Qrow didn’t realize the ship was on his same trajectory until it nearly bumped him in the tailfeathers. A loud caw ripped from his throat as the aircraft blasted past him. It knocked him off course, sending him spiralling down towards the rooftops below. Frantically he tried to catch himself but he just couldn’t stop the oncoming collision. With a loud thud, he crashed into the hard panels. His aura flickered in a potent red dust cloud, and the force was enough to cause the sign on the front of the building to rattle and lean dangerously close towards the ground.

The bird’s form shifted back into a human, and Qrow groaned softly. He winced painfully, blinking his eyes open as he gazed back up towards the sky from where he lay sprawled on his back. The warship that had nearly knocked into him was moving quickly towards the docks, following what looked to be an entire fleet of ships. He couldn’t see much else from his position, feeling the world spin rapidly around him.

With a low groan, Qrow slowly rolled into a sitting position from the crater he made atop the building. He rubbed at his face tiredly, blinking blearily as he tried to come to his senses. His entire body throbbed as his painful aura tried to recoup the damages. But the reservoirs came up dry. He was too tired. How unfortunate.

Qrow tried to summon the strength to return to his bird form, but found he was unable to. Attempting to only sent a debilitating shock of his aura pulsating throughout his body. He felt physically ill at the sensation. Bile rose up in his throat, and he coughed loudly a few times, each one rattling his chest and making his aura flicker. What was aggravating him now? Was it just that exhaustion? Was it the plane crashing down? What now?

Instead of trying again, he merely sat there for a few moments. A dull look presented in his gaze. His eyes rose to stare out towards the sky and the docks out on the horizon. Each breath was visible, his stress rolling up and rising up towards the clouds above him. The cold seeped into his skin and he found the chill strangely soothing in those moments. Brief reprieve from the crushing anxiety he felt.

What became of the kids? Were they successful in their mission? Was everyone alright? He was supposed to meet with them at the docks, wasn’t he? Ah, shit, his head was spinning, and he couldn’t even remember anymore. He didn’t have the capacity to try and worry about everyone and everything. They were strong, they were smart. He just had to trust that they were successful. That’s all he could do right now.

He rubbed at his face hard. An exhale, and he smoothed his fingers back into his greasy hair. What of Clover? Were Robyn and Fiona able to get him to safety? Was it enough to make sure he would recover this time? Yet another thing he couldn’t control or intervene, but something that he so desperately wanted to know. He hadn’t heard of anything since then…

“Fuck.” Qrow hissed. He had to get moving. Laying here wouldn’t get him anywhere. Not when the threat of Salem was so close. 

With a pained grunt of effort, Qrow rolled up onto his knees to try to get to his feet. His arms trembled heavily, struggling with his own weight, and for a brief thought, he worried that he wouldn’t be able to get up again. No, he had to move...he had to fight this exhaustion and this pain. Why couldn’t he get up…?

Above him, another loud drone of a ship was heard, flying closer to the ground this time. Instinctively he ducked his head down to avoid the kicked up dust and debris. The force of the engine rumbled so hard his entire body rattled from the strength of the engine. It almost sent him crumbling back on his belly.

Once it passed, he picked his head up again, squinting as he stared at the white hull of the ship rocketing towards the dark clouds. Yet, strangely, it didn’t resemble the last one. No, this one had visible propellers, a streamlined appearance, and a visible cockpit. Not the ones that he recognized flitting to and fro the skies of Atlas. Not the ones that he had ridden very recently. Not the bulkier passenger ships.

“It’s great, isn’t it?”

Qrow’s head snapped around, staring not at the ruined buildings, but the inside of an aircraft hangar. A runway down the middle, with lines of loaded ships prepared for takeoff. All of them resembled the one that just flew past him: old fashioned ships suited with propellers on their wings and noses, tires, and a cockpit covered in almost translucent glass. None of the massive technological marvels of the warships that Qrow had grown familiar with. He could hear distant chatter of pilots and workers mulling over clipboards and the parked machines. An occasional shriek of an engine as the aircrafts were driven, either to another lot or heading towards the runway. 

“All these ships, I mean. It’s great.” 

A loud laugh echoed, footsteps approaching him. 

With a strange ease he hadn’t had before, Qrow stood and turned towards the familiar voice. Before him was a young, excited James Ironwood. Adorned with a thick aviator jacket and a soft scarf, he lacked his typical Atlas military uniform. Not exactly casual clothing, but more casual than he usually saw him. Despite the clear chill in his pink cheeks and reddened ears, he smiled wide, a childlike excitement and innocence radiating off of him.

James gestured with wide arching arms all around him, continuing easily.

“It’s the General’s newest project. If we take to the skies, we’ll be able to help better protect Atlas and Mantle. It’s an attempt to connect the two city-states, to try and mend relations by protecting both areas. It’s hard enough to keep the two connected as is. By focusing on flight, we can move to something greater, far past just military might. Transportation, community, protection...the possibilities are limitless. We’re on the edge of history, Qrow!” 

Qrow blinked slowly, taking shaking steps towards James. What was he doing here? Why was he back with James? No...this wasn’t where he had just been. This was the old hangar, right when they started building these warships for their soldiers. As James was explaining right now, it was to promote transportation and to improve their military powers...or something like that. Some big push towards aviation or whatever. Just like before, he wasn’t listening too much now, instead staring around them in shock.

He had just been atop the ruined building. This felt like before, when he recalled them sitting at the coffee shop in Beacon...the smell of gasoline, the heat wafting from the engines, and their echoing voices reverberating off the tin walls and ceiling...this felt too real to be a flashback. As if he was actually--

“Hey. Are you sleeping on me?” James questioned, lightly punching Qrow in the arm. Qrow gasped in alarm, stumbling back from the impact. No, that wasn’t just a flashback. That was very, very real. With desperation, he closed the distance between them, quickly grasping onto James’ shoulders. The soldier shouted in surprise. He quickly placed gloved hands on his front to try to nudge him off. 

Beneath the thick coat, Qrow could feel soft, malleable flesh. Not hard, opposing metal, but skin and muscle. There weren’t any sort of prosthetics or steel on him. And from his young appearance--

“Knock it off!” James shouted, finally succeeding in prying Qrow’s hands off of his shoulders. He gave a dissatisfied grunt, rubbing at where Qrow had grabbed. “Man. You have one hell of a grip...that hurt. What’s your problem, anyways?”

“Ah--” Qrow rasped, swallowing as he shakily took a step back.

“Listen, you told me you’d behave. The General’s supposed to be here, and I said you were Professor Ozpin’s representative for the test flight tomorrow.” James warned lowly. “Don’t screw this up for me by doing anything...weird. Or--well, you know--anything like--don’t act like we’re--you know!”

Test flight? Wait. This was--this was when James had excitedly dragged him along to the first flight of the new Atlesian Airforce. The very same one that James had only told him a few hours prior he was a part of. That test flight to flex to the other nations, showing their expanding military and how skilled their soldiers were. James was over the moon to be part of this historical unit and had practically begged him to accompany him. Moral support, or something.

“I...I don’t…” Qrow struggled to find words, blinking at James anxiously.

That damn racing in his heart wouldn’t go away. Whenever he looked at James, he felt that flushing anxiety consume him. Strong enough to leave him speechless and quaking. It was like he was a young, young man again. Back when things were simpler. Back when they played this dangerous game of cat and mouse right under their superior’s noses. Back when they yearned for each other, but were never allowed to touch.

Such thoughts almost succeed in distracting him from the new problem at hand. It didn’t matter how he felt now, but rather...how the hell was this happening? Why was it like he was physically back here? He was supposed to be fighting Salem, preparing for her arrival and defending Atlas! Why was he back here bumming in this hangar?

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” James exhaled, waving a hand dismissively. “I just--don’t want anyone to see. The General isn’t exactly--” he paused, his eyes darting away, “--very open to things that are...different. Reputation and appearances to uphold. And if I want to stay on his good side, I can’t let him see us together like this.”

Qrow snorted. Ah, right. Things never changed, did they?

“Sorry.” James repeated, smiling anxiously over at him. “How about...we’ll go out and get a cup of coffee after practice today? My treat. It’ll be nice--get out of this cold for a bit.”

Just as Qrow was about to open his mouth, the roaring sound of another engine ripped through his thoughts. The image of James faded away, melting back into the gray, dilapidated image of Atlas before him. Replacing the smell of gasoline were the smells of fires and dust, sucking out all sounds and thoughts. Instead of the familiar shot of pale white, his vision was blinded by a fierce green light. 

Like ripples tearing through water he saw everything fall apart before his eyes.

Qrow covered his face and stepped back, shocked stupid for a few moments. The sudden return to the present nearly sent him falling back into the crater he made. His jaw hung open, taking in desperate gulps of air. 

That was the second--no, third--time that this happened, that he was suddenly thrown back into the past. What was doing this? How was this happening to him? They felt too real to be simple flashbacks or dreams. It was as if he were really there. This time he could touch James, could control his own thoughts and emotions, and could actually talk to him. Why was this happening now, when he had the entire world to save?

He shook his head, forcing his eyes up once he was no longer dazed. Yet as he did so, his heart fell into his stomach, and his head grew dangerously light. Up ahead, following the green tail of light was Penny, heading straight towards the gathering of ships.

Penny? What was she doing here, coming from that direction? She was supposed to be with the girls. Why was she--?

The ship that he had only previously seen was suddenly engulfed by a fireball ignited by a blast of a green beam. Penny tore through the metal as if it were nothing. She flew right through it, erupting out the other side of fiery debris. With a quick repulsion of her blasters, she gained a burst of speed, enough to turn and rocket towards the gathering of ships. In her wake, the ship exploded and fell in pieces onto the ground below in trails of smoke and fire.

“Oh god.” Qrow choked out. No, no! Had Watts gotten to her again? Last time he succeeded in hacking her systems and foiling their first plans...did he do it again? He didn’t have time to think or to figure out what was happening, instead he frantically rushed towards the edge of the building and jumped off. 

His blood boiled with anger and with desperation. Ruby and Yang were up there--the military was all lined up for Salem--James was up in one of those ships! Their plan...their plan had been working, they had a fighting chance! No! He wouldn’t let Salem win! Not again! Not this time! Not after everything they had done!

His eyes glowed a dangerous red, and he snarled. That grip on himself was beginning to falter, beginning to loosen, but he was too desperate to try to readjust his hold. Instead, he allowed himself to be all but consumed by the swirling emotions and feeble panic.

His form shifted, transforming into a black bird. Yet this time, something was innately different; a bellowing roar ripped from the throat of this crow, changing shape into something massive, something...innately monstrous. Huge wings spread wide, and flapped, scattering dust and a strange black mist around him. 

He shot up towards the sky, flying with an intense speed after her.

===

Before James was the monstrous dark cloud, flickering and crackling with a scarlet electricity. It’s inky tendrils continued to drift forwards towards the city of Atlas, concealing the monstrosity harboring within. Had he been more foolish he’d believe it to be a thunderstorm rolling in. But the readings from the sonar at the dashboard of his ship showed a large, massive object surrounded by hundreds--no, thousands--of smaller, fast moving blips. 

James’ metal fingers brushed against the dashboard, tracing the frame of the sonar. His fingers curled lightly, knuckles resting against the edge of the screen. On either side of his source, smaller allied vessels began to join, spreading far and wide to form what looked to almost be a wall, a fence. Lined up perfectly, their engines purring distantly, as the massive ships and their pilots gathered around him in formation. 

Across from the held line there were no signs of any attackers. Had he not been staring directly at the dark cloud, he wouldn’t have believed Qrow’s warning words. Even on the radar system he was just looking at there showed no enemy movement. Something had to be there; he just hadn’t found it yet.

Despite his years of training, he couldn’t help the shiver of pent up anxious energy that rose so close to the surface. It bubbled in his chest, and he took in a deep inhale to try to dismiss it. There was nothing he could do for it--he had to trust Qrow, had to believe that what he was seeing on the radar was correct, and had to have faith that this time his plane would protect him from danger.

“Shit.” James cursed, shaking his head quickly. Get over it. Get a hold of yourself. Salem was approaching, Salem was coming--Qrow had to be right. She was so close to impact, just behind those clouds, that he knew he was in the right spot.

He was ready, this time.

A loud, deafening groan suddenly erupted. The force of the blast was enough to cause the entire ship to tremble and make James hold onto the dashboard. He immediately grimaced, leaning forward against the windshield to try to catch a glimpse of what just happened. That sound...that horrible sound...something tearing through the hull of the ship and ratted in his brain. He hissed, bringing up his prosthetic hand and his injured one flinching to meet it. The sound was enough to have his heart pound in his chest and suck the air straight out of him. As he forced his eyes open to stare back out through the windshield, he could see the sea of clouds begin to part, and the dull light of the body of the whale grow visible. The clouds pushed out of its way, more and more, exposing the entire whale. Yet every second that he believed that surely it wasn’t any larger, it kept growing, as if changing shape from within the clouds.

Static tore through the intercom system.

“W--t the h--s that thi--?”

“No, that--t be it!”

“It’s--!”

James smashed a fist against the intercom button, howling into the speaker.

“Maintain formation! Hold the line! Do not let that thing break through!” he barked. “Prepare your weapons!”

Alerts on his radar showed the lines of ships on either side beginning to authorize and charge weapons, aimed directly at the monster before them. Some ships began to scoot closer, forming a ‘V’ with his ship at the base. Close enough that he could see some encroaching on the outskirts of his windshield.

It took him back to those personal jets that he first flew so many years ago. Flying alongside his cohort, taking down airborne grimm, controlling the skies...when was the last time he was on the front line with his men? Had it been the fall of Beacon? That long ago?

The mouth of the monster suddenly ripped open along the seams. Another bellowing moan was released. Smaller grim flooded from its mouth, beginning to fly up and head towards the other ships beside him. They came out in vicious swarms to rip across the sky.

So this was it, then? Qrow had been right. Had Qrow not come in there and snapped the crazy out of him he would’ve still been in the relic’s chambers…

“Fire at will!” James commanded.

Immediately, a barrage of lasers and bullets rained down upon the smaller grimm and upon the whale. His vision lit up with fireworks and light, nearly blinding him from his position. But he did not flinch. With a fist upon the control, he unloaded his own weapon upon the monster. On both sides of the hull, he could hear the guns charging, and soon released a massive beam aimed directly at the whale’s face. The recoil was enough to knock the ship back and nearly send James to the floor.

An explosion tore across the whale’s face, and he couldn’t help the excited laughter that echoed throughout the lonely cockpit.

Perhaps they could do this. They were ready. Qrow’s future wouldn’t come true. He wouldn’t let it happen. They’d take Salem off guard and--

“--ir! Sir! We’re under attack! Some sort of bogey!”

James wheezed briefly, snapped out of his euphoria. Just as he pressed on the intercom, he heard a distinct explosion of metal and gasoline, sending a shiver down his spine. One of his ships blipped out of existence off of his radar. He choked softly in sinking fear.

“Status! What’s your status?!” James demanded, his voice cracking.

No, no! What was--?!

Flashing across his windshield was a streak of green. Moments later, another explosion, this time right next to him.

===

“He actually managed to do it.”

Yang shook her head, a cackle slipping from her lips. A shot was fired from her gauntlets, and the opposing sabyr went down hard. In the same motion, she stole a look back up towards the chaos in the sky above. Among the clouds of flying, swarming grimm, she could see the gunmetal of the massive hull of the General’s personal ship. Surrounding it were the smaller fighter jets, blasting any stray grimm clear out of the sky. All of the ships moved forward in an organized fashion. They formed what looked to be a line to hold, with the General’s ship in the center.

“Uncle Qrow actually managed to convince the general. Holy shit.” Yang swore under her breath. She heard the sound of gunfire behind her, and she glanced back to see Ruby easily slicing through a beowulf with the strength of her scythe.

Ruby hopped a few times to regain her balance She looked at Yang with a pleased laugh. Behind her, the Ace-ops moved, barking orders for the foot soldiers defending the town. Just as organized as the ships moved above, the military fought as a unit. With a calculated ease, they fended off the grimm trying to get into town themselves. 

All were fighting on the same side, for the very same cause. From the troops on the ground to the general himself high above... Finally. Everyone fighting together for the same cause.

“This is working!” Ruby called. “We’re winning! We’re all fighting together, on the same side! We can do it!”

“We haven’t won yet!” Blake called, slicing through a centinel and quickly shooting at a creep that lunged to her. Both fell in a heap of fading black dust at her feet. “We still need to take out Salem.”

“But we actually have a chance this time!” Yang retorted. She hopped on her feet lightly, before firing another round of bullets at a group of sabyrs rushing down the alleyway towards them. They brushed off the gunfire as if it were nothing. Before they could make contact, however, they were dispatched quickly with a rush of ice and shimmering glyphs.

Weiss spun her rapier briefly, summoning a glowing swarm of lancers. The icy apparitions quickly scattered, dealing with the flying grimm above them.

“We can’t lose focus.” Weiss corrected. “Not yet! But we can--”

Her words were cut off at the sudden roaring of an engine and flashing green light. Tearing right through a horde of grimm--and Weiss’ summons--Penny zipped by, flying up towards the aircrafts above them. The strength of her speed and power was enough to nearly send the girls stumbling. It was as if the ground beneath their very feet were shaking. 

“Penny!” Ruby gasped, quickly steadying herself and jogging forward a few feet to try to catch her. Yet Penny made no motion nor sign of stopping. With a sudden burst of magical energy, she blasted forward up towards the massive ships awaiting Salem.

“Where is she going? Wasn’t she supposed to meet us here?” Weiss questioned, standing beside Ruby to follow her gaze.

“I don't know.” Ruby scowled. “Maybe she...has to do something? Or...maybe she’s working with the General now? Or maybe--”

“‘Maybe’ what? She’s needed down here!” Weiss argued.

Before Ruby could retort again, a sudden shout from Marrow snapped both of them out of their conversation.

“Weiss! Ruby! Large grimm incoming!” he called, crouched over on the roof of a nearby building. He pointed in its direction, a frantic look on its face. “It’s coming in hot and fast! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“We can’t worry about her now.” Blake tried to offer, reloading her gun as she spoke. “We have our own job to do right now. If these grimm destroy Atlas anyways, it’s all over. I’m sure...I’m sure she knows what she’s doing. Surely.”

Ruby grimaced, raising her scythe up. As unfortunate that it was, Blake was right. Surely Penny would be fine. She had to trust that she knew what she was doing. She had to rely on that trust and perform her own job. They all had to work together if they would beat Salem..

“Ruby! Weiss! --Grimm! Ten o’clock!”

Just as Marrow had shouted his second warning, a loud crash snatched Ruby’s attention. She spun around, turning to look at where a fountain was present only a few moments before, now crushed under a massive grimm’s feet. Immediately upon impact, the smaller grimm nearby scattered, rushing away from the monstrosity and tearing away from the now confused huntsmen.

Something within Ruby grew terrified, and she felt her elbows begin to knock under the weight of her huge scythe.

A large clawed paw stepped onto the cobble, most of its body covered by large feathered wings. It’s back hooves moved slowly off the remains of the marble fountain with a loud clop. The fan of tail feathers spread wide behind it. Slowly, its fur and feathers fluffed up as its body unfurled. Muscles rippled beneath its skin. Beneath the curtain of wings, a large head became visible. The white mask covering its face curved into a gnarled beak, twisted horns sprouting from its head. It wasn’t as big as the mammoth they had fought earlier, but it gave off an even greater intimidating presence. 

Such a similar apprehension and terror struck Ruby as when Salem had challenged James in his office.

Behind her, Weiss sucked in a hard breath, frozen still behind her.

The beast released a low rumble, and its massive head turned to face the girls. It’s wings opened wide, the tips of its primaries spreading far past the roof of the buildings. It’s red eyes bore into Ruby, seeming to stare right into her soul. A slow trail of black smoke left its hollow nostrils, rising up towards the sky. Upon its mask, long weathered cracks spread like a web from the center of its skull.

As its wings opened, a flash of silver caught Ruby’s attention. Resting upon the beast’s back was a thick blade with a familiar pattern and a worn dark hilt. The air immediately left her lungs, as if she were struck. Her eyes traced the pattern and the slits along the sword, horror building in her chest.

“Uncle Qrow…?” Ruby choked out. The beast’s head lowered, taking another slow step forward onto the concrete. It did not move towards her, nor did it appear ready to lung into an attack. But instead, it simply watched her.

The flares from Yang’s gauntlets flew, exploding against the beasts’ side. It bellowed out a howl, staggering to the side and nearly stumbling onto the floor. That familiar weapon slid off of its back and clattered onto the stone.

“Where is he?” Yang snapped. “What did you do to him?!”

The grimm shook out its fur and feathers, flapping its wings down in the process. Dust scattered around them, briefly blinding the girls near it. Another shot fired, this time from Blake, but it merely shrugged it off. Even as Marrow flung his boomerang, the beast merely ducked its head and cleanly avoided it.

As the dust settled and the gunfire echoed in her ears, Ruby felt a rage erupt in her chest. A frustrated howl ripped from Ruby’s throat, and she propelled herself forward with a few shots from her rifle. She flung herself towards the monstrous grimm, using her moment to spin quickly. Before she could slice through it, the beast moved. It suddenly kicked its hoof against the side of the fallen Harbinger, causing it to bounce. Another aimed kick at the hilt, and it was tossed up to intersect in Ruby’s path. Metal clanged against metal, and the force was enough to knock her off course.

Ruby stumbled to the side. Her knees buckled a moment, the force of the blow enough to make her catch her breath. This monster--this creature--this Grimm...she had never seen anything like it before. It was fast, it was powerful, their bullets were doing nothing to it. Her missing Uncle’s weapon had been resting upon its back. There were not many positive conclusions she could draw as she struggled to get air into her lungs. That thing knocked her off course for a moment. Yet it was only another moment before she swallowed her despair and lunged forward. She quickly snatched onto the handle of Harbinger, glaring with tears in her eyes. 

The beast gave what looked to be a mournful look, releasing a low, loud groan. Its gaze tore away from Ruby, lifting its head back up towards the sky. It’s body lowered to the ground in a crouch, and with a massive flap of its wings, it shot up into the sky. The force of its flap was enough to rip up the concrete beneath it, sending cracks in the floor and in the buildings nearby, and enough to send Ruby falling back on her bum.

Ruby took in a quick breath, peering up in the direction the grimm had flown. She wiped at her face with a loose fist, looking desperately at the strange beast. Footsteps echoed beside her as her team came to check on her, but she paid them no mind. Her attention was focused on the grimm, following the green trail Penny left behind up to the General’s airship.

===

James could only hear his ragged, terrified breaths as he stared at the android before him. The desperate calls of his men felt like only distant buzzing, lost in the cloud and the fog of panic permeating his brain. Edges of his vision began to crumble away. All of his senses narrowed and focused on the red-headed robot hovering just on the other side of his windshield. Her eyes glowed an unforgiving red, masked beneath the evident power of the maiden. She held no emotion behind her expression. No remorse, no fear, no joy...nothing could be seen past her flat affect.

Penny...she had obtained the powers of the maiden, and now she was here to kill him. The thought sent terror shooting down his spine. Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t help but release a strangled laugh. His injured hand trembled in its sling, and his lips parted in a choking cackle.

So this was it, then? Forced out of the relic’s chambers and out into the open, out into Salem’s mercy, all at the whim of one man’s insane ramblings...was he about to be struck down by the one girl who was meant to be their protector? Had all of this effort been for naught? Had he made the wrong decision by being here, by trusting him?

More blips on the sonar began to flicker out, more of his men shot down and destroyed by the hordes of monsters. One by one, they were struck by the reign of Salem’s tantrums, by her fits--and yet, here, remaining quiet, motionless before him, was but a simple girl he had overlooked.

He inhaled a sharp breath through his mouth as he felt his throat tighten.

“So, it’s come to this, then?” he questioned softly, his words barely a thread of a whisper.

Penny’s pupils narrowed to pinpricks. 

Gods, he wished that she would just take him down, take him out of his misery--and yet, strangely, even thinking about that only made his heart clench tighter. No, that was a lie that not even himself could believe. Who was he kidding?

Terror shot through his veins. He didn’t want to die.

Penny’s hands rose, and the blades began to spin around her. It felt strangely hypnotic, he thought, watching her in the center of his vision. The blades slowly circling her resembled a sun, or a goddess’ might. He felt so small, so feeble, beneath her, and beneath the massive whale still coming closer, closer. At her mercy, at her will, and oh, that powerless feeling was absolutely suffocating.

He didn’t want to die.

Charging at the tips of her fingers and the tips of her blades, that pure green energy began to gather. Frost glazed his windshield. Winds whipped up loud enough for him to hear their ghostly wails. Her eyes glowed, gathering in strength and vitriol, enough that he swore he could feel the hull of the ship shutter.

Oh, please, no, he didn’t want to die.

Just as the energy began to gather enough for it to tear through his ship as if it were jello, a shrieking noise tore his attention and chewed at his ears. He ripped his gaze from Penny, instead turning fully to face the source of the noise. Coming from the emergency exit, claws pierced the hull of the ship. White, sharp claws ripped through the door with the consistency of tinfoil. The hinges creaked as it was forced to open against the might of the intruder.

The gun at James’ side was unsheathed, cocked, and aimed towards the vacuum of air sucking out of the new wound in the plane. His feet slid against the slick floor, struggling to remain planted at the dashboard and keep his gun pointed in preparation.

The door was ripped off, falling and lost to space. Revealed was what looked to be a massive, unrecognizable grimm. It’s eyes glowed that familiar red, black body practically filling the new hole, and sharp claws clicked against the ship. What was striking was the mask it wore, resembling a bird’s skull with a curved beak, and curled horns protruding from its helmet. Yet, within it, were cracks spreading across its face from one circular hole right in between its eyes.

For a moment that felt like eternity, it didn’t move, instead watching James with a hanging jaw. Its face twisted underneath its mask in what looked to be its own string of terror, but it was something that was almost entirely missed in the ensuing chaos.

With the choice of either going down to a beast of nightmares or an out of control robot girl, James didn’t like these odds. Especially as the grimm entered the ship and reached a clawed paw out to James, especially as it bellowed out a distressing cry, especially as it began to speak in a recognizable tongue.

“James--”

The gunshot echoed throughout the bridge, tearing through the monster’s face just as soon as the entire ship lit up in a blasting light and engulfing fireball.

===

The force of the explosion caused everything in the vicinity to shake and nearly crumble. It was certainly enough to almost bring Clover to his knees. Had it not been for the side rails of the bed he was hanging onto, he would’ve fallen down. Intense vertigo swirled in his skull, enough for him to feel vomit push up against his throat. His legs trembled, knees clacking as he forced himself not to crumble, not to purge up everything in his stomach, and not to succumb to weakness. The near fall made his injured arm jerk against the bed frame, causing him to release a strangled cry.

Intense light suddenly filled the room he was in. Hot white light blinded him immediately after that shockwave. Spots filled his vision, and his brain washed over with agonizing pain. His hand slipped off the side rail and nearly sent him crumbling to the floor. Heavy, painful gasping breaths filled his lungs to try to summon the strength to stand again.

Although, the idea of sliding down onto the cool tiles of the floor and out of view of the blinding light was tempting… Yet, his curiosity won out this time. The itching of the window in his peripheral was enough for him to shakily stumble back to a standing position and swallow gluttonous lungfuls of air. Using all of his strength, he moved towards the window. Both hands reached out, ignoring the cracking and bursting pain of that injured shoulder, and he felt for the window. Immediately, he practically collapsed against the sill once he touched it. Something hot dripped down his arm and onto his bare feet. The throbbing in his shoulder made his entire arm tremble.

His hands gripped tight to the sill, and he blinked a few times, staring directly into the blinding light.

As the light dwindled, it revealed the explosion. It spread across the entire landscape before him. The cloud of smoke and fire began to dwindle, fading away into the darkness of the night sky. He could barely see anything past the chaos. The longer he stared, however, the more pieces fell into place. Clover could recognize the wreckage of a massive warship; its propellers fell into the buildings nearby, and a massive chunk of hull tumbled down clear off the side of Atlas. Pieces of falling, flaming debris, disappearing down into the depths off the floating city.

Among the raining garbage, Clover swore he could see two bodies drifting down, yet once he blinked, it all just looked like a flaming fireball again.

Clover’s knuckles turned white, and his eyes were glued to the sight before him. His injured arm throbbed painfully, sending pulsating shocks through his chest and stomach. Even long after that ship was no more, Clover could not look away. 

With a strangled cry, Clover vomited violently onto the floor beside him.

===

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos on this fic. I didn't think that I would be here after six months, finally getting to this point. The support I have gotten has been tremendous, and thank you everyone. I've had this planned since May 2020, so to be here now is wild. 
> 
> Thank you guys again.


	11. Chapter 11

With a choking gasp and a pained cough, James returned to the world of the living. 

The sand was rough on his skin. The freezing water lapping at his limp body was numbing. His lungs burned with seawater. His head pounded against the rocks. As his eyes opened, the sun burned against his retinas. His brain rattled painfully within his skull. The calls of birds floating above him seemed to pierce his ears. Exhaustion tugged with heavy weight at his muscles. 

Oh, god, he had to get up. But everything ached, everything felt so heavy, everything was screaming at him to close his eyes and return to sleep…

A potent crash of metal next to him seemed to rouse James. The sudden fear that he was not alone among the waves gave him a sudden surge of strength. He coughed the seawater up that was pooling near his lips, and releasing a ragged grunt, he slowly began to sit up. With a painful locking jolt his stiff prosthetic spine cracked and struggled to respond to his body. In the same motion his metal hip popped, sending a bolt of pain across his pelvis. Both of his arms trembled--both from the saltwater, both locking up.

“Shit.” James croaked. He sat forward, leaning against his quaking metal leg for support. The waves splashed against his stomach, salty and cold. Among him were the sharp rocks and coarse sand. He sat among the remains of what he could assume to be his aircraft. Pieces of smoldering metal and rubbish lined up and down the beach. He could still smell the gasoline. That crash he heard earlier must’ve been the debris shifting.

He shakily lifted up his metal hand, opening and closing into a fist a few times. The water leaked out of the slots in his body. Yet he felt no relief or loosening in his joints. Too stiff, too stiff.

It was a miracle he was even alive, he thought bitterly. Despite his pounding head he could easily remember what brought him here...which one of the numerous catastrophes sent him crashing down? Salem’s whale? Penny’s attack? That sudden grimm entering his ship? And somehow he didn’t even sink upon hitting the water. Although his body didn’t seem too happy about the saltwater irritating the precious mechanical bits, at least he was breathing.

Another crash was heard, snapping him back to the urgency that roused him up in the first place. He breathed in sharply as he turned his head towards the sound of the noise.

Laying further down the beach was another person. Tucked under the broken wing of the ship and half submerged in the water, their face remained in the sand and their body pinned against the wreckage. Red stained the sand and the foam near the black haired head. It didn’t look as if they were even alive; at least, he couldn’t tell from the position he stood in and where the body lay. 

James reluctantly tore his gaze away. Another poor soul dead. Perhaps another pilot in one of the smaller military fighter jets. It was unfortunate, but he didn’t have the time nor the energy to lament the dead. Not with so much left in the balance.

James exhaled. He had to get moving. Figure out where he was and get the hell out of this frozen water.

With a pained grunt, his prosthetic limbs stiff and quaking, he managed to get back to his feet. His jacket and pants were sopping wet and he almost fell back to the surf from the weight. He took in loud gulps of air to try to steady himself. Quickly he used the momentum to swing his legs out of the frozen water and onto the sand, staggering away from the surf. Each step was heavy, feeling the water squelch in his boots and spill out of his prosthetics.

He climbed up the beach, stepping into the warmth of the sunlight. How long had he been unconscious? From how his metal limbs were hard to move and his body frozen despite his aura, it had to have been a few hours…

James panted briefly. His head turned towards the waves crashing against the sand, scanning the beach. All around him were the ruins of his warship, the ruins of his attempts to stop Salem. So easily was he shot down. He thought he had been in the right...thought that trusting Qrow’s judgement was correct...thought that they had a chance of defeating Salem. And yet…

“Shit!” James bellowed out. He struck a burning piece of metal jutting out of the sand near him, succeeding in denting the hull easily. 

Great. He was stuck here while Atlas and Mantle were reamed by an unkillable god. No way to get back, no way to contact help...nothing. If only he could make sure that everyone was alright...that's all that mattered. He couldn’t stay here. Somehow he had to get back up to Atlas. The entire world was relying on him--

A soft groan managed to grasp the General’s attention. His gaze turned back to the surf, looking immediately to the man he had deemed dead. Within the crashing water, nearly sucking him up, he found a pale hand desperately grasping onto a pointed rock. On those bruised fingers were a set of rings and a bracelet strapped to the wrist. 

James’ lungs closed up.

With shaking, agonizing steps, he slowly stepped back to the edge of the water. Horror crossed his features as he got closer to the body. His gaze traced his pale features and the shock of blood on his face. It was painfully obvious who this man was. How had he not realized upon first glance? The shock nearly knocked him flat.

He staggered down to the waves, howling in misery. He fell to his knees, quickly groping onto the man’s shirt to pull him out of the water.

“Qrow! Qrow! Can you hear me?! Qrow!”

What was he doing here? How did he get here? Oh no, no, no. Was he breathing? There was so much blood. He was so pale. Oh god.

Qrow’s head lolled back as he was dragged from the frozen water. Encroaching upon his hairline was a deep, bleeding wound. It was fresh, and the cold water made it appear even more gruesome. From the puckered edges it looked almost like a--

“Please, Qrow!” James begged, tears welling up. No, no...he looked like he had been shot. Right in the head. That had to be a gunshot wound. There was no way that he was alive...no one could survive that. How did this happen? Who managed to shoot him?

With a grunt he pulled back hard. After a bit of struggling, Qrow slid out of the water and onto the coarse sand. Quickly he rolled him onto his back. In that instant, his burnt arm and his failing prosthetic were forgotten, instead the whole world melting around him and leaving only this man behind. Salem was dismissed, the siege was lost, and only Qrow remained. Those injured limbs touched Qrow, cupping his face, and frantically pressing against the side of his neck.

Surely he wasn’t alive, he couldn’t--

A thrill pulse throbbed against James’ burnt limb, barely palpable.

“Qrow!” James sobbed, hot tears streaming against his frozen cheeks. Immediately he pressed his ear to his chest, searching desperately for confirmation. His heart pumped slowly, and his chest slowly rose and fell with each rattling breath.

Qrow was alive.

Another weep ripped from James’ throat. He rested his face against the man’s neck, sobbing softly against him. Relief washed over him; so heavy that it almost made him crumble right back against the sand. That bullet hadn’t killed him. Qrow was still breathing, his heart was still pumping...he was alive.

The irrationality of the situation didn’t make sense, and yet, nothing tipped off in his head. He didn’t care how Qrow got here. It didn’t matter right now. 

“Qrow…” James rasped softly, pulling his head back to look at Qrow in the face. He stroked his hands against the man’s cheeks, sliding up to brush his hair out of his face and out of the wound. The touches made him whimper pathetically, and James was almost relieved at the noise. He was alive.

“What happened to you? How did you get here?” he questioned. “You...weren’t with the ship...you said you were going with the girls. What happened…? The only one with me was--”

That monster. That grimm. That disgusting beast. He remembered now. That creature that tore through the hull of his ship as if it were paper. That thing that tried to kill him. It must’ve been destroyed in the crash...but it still didn’t answer how Qrow got here.

“Ah. It doesn’t matter.” James answered finally, shaking his head. He pressed his metal palm against Qrow’s head wound, shushing as the man whined in pain beneath him. “We’ll get help, we’ll get out of here. I will take care of you, Qrow--”

His blue aura flickered to life, sparkling against his fingers. It spread quickly and seeped into Qrow’s skin. The wound at his temple glistened, and for a moment, James allowed the held breath to leak from his nostrils. If he could at least start the healing process, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he’d have a chance. Qrow was still alive, at the very least. He couldn’t shirk this opportunity to save him. And with a bullet to the head... 

Yet almost instantly, Qrow’s aura suddenly retaliated violently. The scarlet red crackled like static off of his skin and bounced to James’ hand. It spiralled up his arm, sending searing pain through his veins. The pain was enough to initially blind him. It was like a jolt of poison or electrocution. 

Immediately he recoiled back, howling in agony. Upon his skinned arm, the scabbing closures suddenly split open, and a gush of blood and pus spurted from the healing wound. He quickly scooted back away from Qrow, clutching his wounded arm against his chest.

“Fuck!” he barked through gritted teeth. For a few moments, all he could do was hold his arm and rock back and forth from the agonizing pain.

What just happened? He’d never seen someone’s aura do that. Sharing auras to kickstart healing almost always worked. He’d done it before to save lives out in the battlefield. But that...that was excruciating. 

He grimaced briefly, cussing again under his breath. Damn this arm...he couldn’t do anything with it like this. With his prosthetic locking up and now this arm practically unusable...how was he supposed to get Qrow out of here?

James shook his head a few times, before touching Qrow’s cheek lightly. The man softly groaned at the touch. His eyelids fluttered in response, but he didn’t wake just yet. James would take anything right now, any signs of life. 

He had to get Qrow out of here...once he figured out where the hell “here” was.

“Qrow…” he whispered.

A sudden blast of gunfire near his head immediately made him duck. He practically fell over Qrow, covering him with his entire body protectively. Not even here among the wreckage they were safe from this war. Had Salem’s lackey’s come to finish the job?

Behind him, a small nevermore fell into the water.

Another shot was fired, and he lifted his head up just a bit to see where it came from. The flare shrieked as it whizzed through the air, hitting another nevermore in the beak. That too fell heavily in the water within a cloud of red and black dust.

“You better get off the beach if you know what's good for you.”

James gazed up at the man, his jaw hanging in recognition. He watched as the man with the white coat and the black trousers step down the boardwalk and onto the sand. The cane was spun a few times, his orange hair a shock against the gray beach.

James slowly shifted his weight to further cover Qrow, practically chest to chest with him. His faint breath ghosted against his neck

The man stopped a few paces from them, swinging his cane lazily forward and back.

“Been awhile since we had fresh meat.” he snickered darkly. “Welcome, General.”

“Torchwick.” James breathed out. “I thought you were--”

“Dead? Ha. Don’t believe everything you see on this island.” the man cackled. He swung his cane up, firing with one hand at another grimm circling overhead. It crashed down into the rubbish of the ship, exploding upon impact. Once it fell, he motioned towards James lazily with the gun. “Like that body you’re snuggling. If you stay here too long, the grimm’ll take you for a snack. Fun shooting practice, but I’m not risking being someone else’s meal again.”

James wheezed briefly. It really was Roman Torchwick. But how? He had been told that he had been killed during the Fall of Beacon...and yet, here he was. Standing before them. Shooting the grimm out of the sky as if they were nothing. This man was supposed to be dead. 

And what was he going on about…?

He slowly shifted his weight, resting on his metal elbow and rocking back onto his knees, still hovering over Qrow’s body.

“You said island...where are we?” he demanded. He could worry more about Roman lately. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting Qrow help before he suddenly worsened. He couldn’t do anything trapped on this beach.

Roman swung his cane again, this time switching hands. His green eyes flickered to James, watching him with a lazy, snide smirk. A roll of his shoulders, and a low laugh rumbled from his throat.

“Hell.”

“Don’t mock me.” James growled. “Where are we? Tell me. I don’t have time for your games. Just tell me where we are and I’ll let you go--”

Roman tilted his head back and ripped out a howling laugh.

“Oh really, Jimmy? You’re too kind.” he sneered. “Sorry, bud. Can’t help you there. And you can’t stop me. You got nothing here. Can’t do shit.”

James’ teeth gnashed together. “I don’t have--”

“I’ll give you one hint.” Roman continued. “Don’t believe everything you see around here. I’m not lying when I say this is Hell. Watch your back, and maybe you’ll make it out alive.”

“What are you talking about?”

The sound of a roar, louder than the nevermore than Roman had shot, echoed around them. The dead thief snorted, stopping his cane from swinging by grabbing the barrel with his free hand. He gazed up at the sky, before turning sharply and moving back up the boardwalk.

“I’d start moving if I were you. They get antsy around this time. Especially around fresh meat.”

“Torchwick!” James snapped, his heart pounding in his throat. His fist punched the sand in frustration as the man walked briskly out of sight.

He squinted up towards the sky, catching a glimpse of a shadow flying above. Another curse, and he looked back down to Qrow. The man’s eyelids had finally fluttered open, a thousand yard stare present in his gaze. He breathed shakily, pupils blown out, red irises barely visible.

“Qrow…?” James asked nervously. His hand touched his face, eager for a reaction. 

Qrow didn’t even blink at the touch. 

That wasn’t good. He was alive, but he knew from experience such a head injury was traumatizing. He was breathing, but it was as if he weren’t even there. If only he had somewhere to go for help…

He exhaled softly. Help wasn’t here on this beach. That grimm above their heads wasn’t a good sign either. They had to get out of here.

“Roman went up that path. Perhaps there's something there we can use. Shelter, maybe. People.” James muttered to Qrow. “He could’ve killed us if he wanted to. But he didn’t…”

He shook his head again.

“Come. Let’s go.”

===

None of the words spoken to Clover seemed to register in his head. All that was spoken to him just melted away into a blur and smudge upon his skull. Sounded more like bees buzzing, at this rate. An annoyance, a hindrance. 

His fingers rubbed at the hem of his sling, feeling his shoulder throb within it. The poison that had only just been removed from his veins still left a sickly feeling in his blood. His muscles ached, his head spun...Oh, how he wished he could flee from this entire conversation. Go back to sleep, leave reality for a little while longer. That sounded nice

“Clover? Are you listening to me?”

But of course that couldn’t happen.

He hummed tiredly, allowing his eyes to flicker up to Winter. A lazy smile spread across his lips.

“Loud and clear.” he cooed.

“Then what did I just say?” she challenged.

Clover slowly leaned back further into the flat mattress, staring at Winter wordlessly. Aggravation was evident on his body.

Winter exhaled loudly, rubbing at her face.

“Fine, I’ll say it again.” she decided. “I know you don’t want this, but this is--”

“I didn’t sign up to be second-in-command.” Clover interrupted. “Yeah. I heard you the first time. You want me to be the new General while James is missing. Run this joint since no one else can do it or whatever.”

Winter gave a slow nod. “That’s right.”

“Yeah, well, that’s nice. I’m not doing it.” Clover scoffed. He readjusted in the bed, the hand of his uninjured arm crossing against his chest. “Sorry, Schnee. Not happening. I didn’t sign up for this shit.”

“It’s what you signed up for when you became Leader of the Ace-Ops.” Winter immediately responded. Her jaw set, and her eyes narrowed. “Historically, the Leader of the Ace-Ops has always been delegated to the responsibilities of the General if he or she is unfit to perform their duties. It’s--”

“Yeah, not in my job description.” Clover said. His smile remained, but there was something strangely cold and cruel in his features. “Jimmy never told me I would have to do this. I had strict rules upfront when I joined, and that wasn’t one of them. Sorry. I’m tapping out. Why don’t you go and do it, Schnee? You were up his ass the entire time, anyways, being a “specialist” or whatever that pretty little job was. You’re the better fit to do it. Not me.”

Winter released a tense breath from her nostrils.

“You outrank me, Clover. A specialist is beneath the Ace-Ops. And thus you, their leader, outrank me. If I were to do the responsibilities it would be mayhem.”

“There’s already shit hitting the fan!” Clover ripped out a laugh. “Please! The council is running around like chickens without their heads! Throw them something else! It’ll just get lost in this “mayhem”, anyways. It’ll be a rip. Dusted under the rug.”

“That’s not the point.” Winter hissed. “We need a leader. We need--”

“What we need is to look for James.” Clover snapped. He slowly leaned forward, the fingers curling in a tight fist in the sling. “That’s the one who can lead us. You’re saying that the government is just--giving up--while James is missing? No one’s looking for him? Man’s got two seats on the council--I mean he’s a big man but--”

“Of course people are looking for him.” She snarled. She took a step closer, rounding around the bed to glare at Clover’s face. “Don’t be stupid. People are searching for him. But we can’t be without a leader while he’s gone. Salem destroyed half of Atlas and Mantle. She may have retreated, but she will be back. And we can’t be left leaderless until then. You’re right--he did hold two seats, and we’re now down both of those seats on the council. Which is why we need to hold strong until he returns. Even if that means having someone like you holding those seats temporarily.”

Clover sniffed, glaring darkly at her. 

“And you really think that I’m the one to do it?” he growled.

“No, I don’t.” she admitted, her glare remaining on her face. “I think you’re lazy, conceited, and too much of a mystery to put at the helm. We don’t know anything about you, except you, a no-name without any history or records, unprecedentedly got the job. Hired personally by General Ironwood. If I could remove you from office I would. But the council voted for you to lead. It’s precedent, and whether you like it or not, you signed up for this by working for the government.”

Clover’s grim smile widened, and he released a soft, low chuckle.

“Well. Looks like I’m not in any place to say shit, Miss Schnee.” he cooed. “Since you think I should be General so much, then I’ll do it.”

Winter slowly stood back up straight, glaring down at him.

“Someone needs to lead, right?” he questioned. “Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll be General. Until James come walking back in--alive--I’ll do it. And you bet your ass I’m putting all forces towards getting him back.”

“Your duty is to the people of Atlas and Mantle. Not to one man.” Winter said.

Clover’s lips twitched downward briefly. He snorted, shaking his head.

“I know. And that’s what I’ll do if I have to. Protect the people, fix our defenses, stop Salem from busting in. I know. But don’t think I’m leaving James. I know he’s alive. I’ll find him. I’ll let him take the seat when he gets back. That’s all I’m saying. Even with one working arm, I can multitask.”

Winter slowly nodded with a skeptical look.

“You’ll be discharged tomorrow. I’ll come and pick you up tomorrow morning and take you back to the capital building.” she instructed. “From there, I will walk you through the procedure and what to expect in the coming days.”

“And whats this visit, then? Just came to check on me?” Clover snickered. “Seeing if I’m too drugged up on painkillers to piss in a straight line? Threshold must be low to run a country.”

“Think of it as a courtesy.” Winter hummed.

“Peachy.” Clover cooed. He settled back down in the bed, folding his hands neatly against his stomach. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll enjoy my last night of freedom.”

Winter’s head tilted to the side, and she sneered softly. She turned sharply towards the door.

Him as General...absolutely ridiculous. He wasn’t meant to run a country. Be a leader? Sure, he barely constituted as a leader over those scoundrels in the Ace-Ops. But take James’ job? No way. He wouldn’t hold that position for long. James was the real leader here. Not him. Surely Qrow would agree with him there.

It was then that Clover seemed to recall the conversation they held before she broke the news to him. Damn it all. Maybe he wasn’t just joking when he talked about pissing in a straight line on painkillers.

“Ah, actually, hold on a minute.” Clover waved his hand up to her. 

She stopped by the doorframe. 

“Yeah...you never answered my question that I asked you when you came in.”

Winter looked back over at him slowly. 

“Where’s Qrow?”

She paused briefly, seeming to consider her next words carefully. Her gaze flickered down, focusing on a cracked tile in the floor.

“They found his weapon during the attack.” she began slowly. “His niece said that it fell off of a grimm. For the time being we’re classifying him as killed in--”

“Like hell you are.” Clover scoffed. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“His weapon was found off of the body of a grimm.” she snapped. “Clover, you need to face the facts; what else do you think that means?”

“I know him better than you.” he challenged. “Maybe his bad luck caused him to lose his weapon. That doesn’t mean anything. He could still be alive--he could be with James!”

“His bad luck could’ve also caused him to get eaten.” Winter growled. “Clover. You’re going to be the General. We’ll continue to look for him and Ironwood, but you need to focus at the task at hand. People are going to be relying on you for support and instruction. You need to help rebuild this nation. Salem has backed off for now, but we need to be ready for a second strike. We can’t stop the entire operation for two people. You know that that’s just a fact of life, working in the army. We lose people, and that can’t stop our jobs.”

Clover’s jaw set, and he did not respond. He didn’t have anything to say about it. Unfortunately, she was right. How many people had they lost throughout the years? Their duty was to be upheld at all costs. People could be replaced…

And yet, Qrow’s words echoed in his head. Sobbing over his body, holding him, begging him to have some sort of self preservation, to not throw his life away for some duty. He had almost died at the hands of Tyrian...if he had been determined to uphold his duty, he wouldn’t be here now. The country needed him to provide order. The people of Atlas needed help. Salem still loomed over the entire world as a threat. 

But...the idea of replacing James made him feel like vomiting. Was that what he was supposed to do…? No...that couldn’t be. That didn’t...that didn’t make sense. 

Duty...duty, duty, duty. All he found himself caring about was finding James and Qrow. The first two men that made him feel like a good person. The first two people that he actually cared about emotionally, not just physically. The first two people he had wanted to spend a lifetime with…

“I”ll be back tomorrow morning.” Winter whispered again.

“Yeah.” Clover breathed. “Yeah. I’ll...see you tomorrow, then.”

He watched as Winter excused herself from the room, allowing his thoughts to spiral helplessly.

===

“Alright...lets try one more time.”

James wheezed loudly. His head hung forward, sucking in desperate gulps of air as his aura flashed across his skin. Beneath him, Qrow remained unconscious, the blood slowing to a trickle at his hairline and his chest rattling with each shallow breath. 

“One more time, one more time…” he croaked again. His injured arm throbbed so hard he was seeing spots, and his mechanical arm struggled to flex. If only he had at least one working limb, but of course that wouldn’t happen. He could’ve carried him in a way that wouldn’t aggravate his already traumatic brain injury. Perhaps it was Qrow’s semblance making this situation practically impossible. 

But he had no time to lament over his misfortune. Qrow wouldn’t survive here. Grimm were flying all over the place. And there looked to be some sort of settlement just up that boardwalk, if Roman was any sort of sign. He had to fight his own pain and get Qrow off the ground. If he couldn’t even do that--

He growled loudly again.

“Alright. This is going to hurt, Qrow. I’m sorry.”

He pulled the other man’s knees up into a bent position while he himself rose up into a low squat. He reached forward, grabbing Qrow’s arm and pulling him up in a sitting position. The man’s head bobbed back once he was up. A loud, painful whimper was heard from Qrow, to which James quickly shushed him.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. Hold on.” He grimaced, his prosthetic arm trembling as he held Qrow up. Ok. He could do this quickly. One time, one swing. That’s all he needed to do. One quick motion and he’d get him up. Just like the old military training.

Using the momentum, he pulled Qrow up hard while he himself ducked down. With fumbling hands and an awkward movement, he managed to toss Qrow over his shoulders. His prosthetic hand quickly yanked onto his wrist and held it next to his knee, stabilizing him. His thin limbs hooked around his neck and his weight pressed against his shoulders. The sudden balance shift had him nearly fall on his butt, but after a few seconds of gathering his strength, he was able to stand up. Qrow released another pained noise, this time sounding like an animal howl, incredibly loud next to James’ ear.

“It’s alright. I have you, you’re safe. You’ll be fine.” James grimaced. He breathed hard through his teeth, holding tightly to Qrow so he wouldn’t slip off his shoulders. 

Ok. He had him up. That was something. Now what?

“Ah…” James breathed out. “...Torchwick went up that path. Perhaps we can get help there. Surely that's better than hanging around here, don’t you think?”

Despite knowing he wouldn’t get a reaction, he found it strangely soothing to speak to Qrow.

“Yes. I think so.” James answered himself.

He heaved up Qrow once more to settle him at his shoulders. Now having spoken a plan into existence, he was ready to act on it. One last glance around to the areas near him for danger, and he climbed up the rest of the way towards the boardwalk. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me thus far. I am ecstatic with all the support on this project of me, and am thrilled to see how far we've come. Thank you all for your patience, and please enjoy.

“What…?”

James squinted at the sign hanging above the gate leading to a cobblestone road. His grip on Qrow against his shoulders tightened. Despite the rusting and wear, he could very easily read the brightly colored, fun lettering plastered on the metal gate.

“Pleasure Island?”

What a bizarre name. He had never heard of a ‘Pleasure Island’. Not on his charts, not in his records, not in his history. Nothing of the sort. He had a thorough memory of the cartography of Mantle and Atlas, and many of the islands scattered in the waves. But nothing with such a preposterous name as this.

Where did they end up? Were they even still on the continent? Surely they had to, if they fell straight down off of Atlas. Yet the doubts still lingered with the mess of confusion in his skull. And there was no sign of any other settlement. Only this straight path from the beach up to this scene.

Qrow groaned weakly against his shoulder, and James released a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, I hear you.” James snorted. 

A weak smile forced to his lips as his hand lightly squeezed Qrow’s wrist and knee. Despite how light he was, he was still dead weight against his shoulders and neck. Hopefully they could finally get some help here...wherever they were.

That fear still swirled in his chest. Was this another town just overwhelmed by Grimm? Did they know his face, the General of Atlas? Would he not be welcome here?

They weren’t exactly in much of a position to be picky. Qrow still had that bullet in his head, and James didn’t know exactly how long he could walk. His prosthetic limbs were stiff from the corrosive saltwater. If he lost the ability to walk, then that was it. Any sort of aid to save Qrow’s life he could take. 

“Come on.” James said. “Let’s go. Whatever this is…we’ll deal with this together.”

He stepped off of the rotten boardwalk, his heavy boots clopping heavily against the mossy, worn stone. Before him, the road led past a canopy of wilted trees and towards tall buildings at the edge of his vision. A damp fog seemed to hang over the area, making his field of view even shorter.

For a few paces, everything was silent. The only sounds were his own footsteps and Qrow’s raspy breathing against his neck. It wasn’t until he neared the buildings did he begin to hear and see signs of life. At first it was distant--soft rumblings, pops, loud pitches, as if someone were whispering. The winds murmuring against the twisted trees and howling within the rocky walls and gates. Rumblings of perhaps another entity within.

Yet as he stepped closer, it soon became evident that it sounded like...celebrations. Excited howling, cheering, some sort of crashing of broken glass… James heard it before he saw it. It wasn’t until he had turned a bend in the road did it appear before him.

Loud firecrackers popped in front of his face, followed by jeering and jesting. Men and women filled the streets, lining the brightly-lit roads and crowding around the buildings and concession stands. Many of them were popping alcohol bottles, stuffing their face with carnival food, laughing and cheering and chattering excitedly with one another. Above them, ribbons and decorations hung from street lamp to street lamp, many of the businesses flashed their names with neon signs, and brightly decorated props lined the intersections. The roads were immensely congested with both bodies, kiosks, and carnival stands. 

Out in the distance, a rusted ferris wheel was seen scraping the edges of the fog. A carousel could be spotted, as well as a house of mirrors. Within some of the hanging decorations, faces of characteristic clowns gazed down upon them.

“What…?” James wheezed, taking a slow step back. Was this a celebration? An amusement park? Had this really been where Torchwick had gone?

The breath trapped itself in his lungs. His heart squeezed tightly, feeling a strange sense of paranoia fill his chest. These people were celebrating, drinking, glutting themselves...had they no knowledge of the threat of Salem trampling through the countries? Were they celebrating their survival? Had they completely missed the terror?

No, that didn’t make sense either. Perhaps this wasn’t in Atlas or Mantle as he originally thought.

None of the people seemed to take any notice of him, either. Even as he stood there, beaten and bloodied, with an equally mauled man upon his shoulders, no one took a glance at him. Their drinks and their food and their hedonism seemed to take much more of a precedent. Loud and boisterous, cracking bottles and spilling things on the soiled floor, stepping over those that had fallen due to overindulgence...they lacked any sort of concept of being self aware.

James sucked in a hard breath. He hadn’t even spoken a word and he already couldn’t help but feel helpless here. These people were too engorged to pay him any mind. It wasn’t even worth trying to get attention from them. No, he wouldn’t get any sort of help here. He had to move. Qrow wasn’t going to get help here. He wasn’t going to get contact here. Perhaps it was better that attention wasn’t drawn to him, he realized with a grimace. If they caught sight of his face when he could not defend himself...

With a few shaking steps, he got his stiff legs to work again. He stepped off of the stone path and onto the grass. From this angle, he could see that there was a beaten off trail path going around some of the buildings. It led away from the festivities in the central street, and would allow him to get out of here.

The buildings themselves looked...worn. Used. In desperate need of renovation. Some of the wooden sidings looked rotten. Moss crawled against some of the stone. Old signs and lights were dimmed and smeared, barely legible in their advertising. The grass itself looked wilted and dead. The trail itself was only where the vegetation had worn away and the dirt lay bare.

Clearly people lived here--the celebrations still rang in his ears. But the surrounding area told a different story of neglect and disarray. 

After some time walking, the shouts and cheers began to fade to the back. At first he desperately salivated over a moment of reprise. And yet, he began to hear a new commotion. Something much more subdued, but still another sign of activity.

So not everyone was out at that street fair then. Or whatever it was.

James quickly picked up speed, issuing a soft apology to the soft groans of Qrow bouncing in his grip. He winced softly as he felt his head bob against his shoulder lightly. The thought of depositing Qrow for safekeeping behind one of these buildings crossed his mind--it would be better for him to not be jostled so much. And at the same time, it would give himself the necessary time to find help and gather information on where they were doing.

But, as he heard another crash and an excited cheer, he quickly dismissed the notion. No. He couldn’t leave any soldier behind. Not in an unfamiliar territory, not with strange people. He could handle this. He could deal with this. Qrow was counting on him.

With a roll of his shoulders, Qrow leaned heavily against his metallic body. His metal hand shifted to hold on better to his wrist and his knee, secured tightly. A soft click, and the limb locked into place.

If he were a machine, might as well use it. That side of his body couldn’t fatigue. He could move and carry Qrow fine--it would be fine, absolutely fine.

“There.” he said aloud with a soft nod. “See? I told you. I will keep you safe, Qrow.”

Another tiny whine was heard, and James couldn’t help but feel a thrill of hope. A small bit of excitement at the possibility he was responding to him now. Despite the grievous injury and his previous unresponsiveness, he still held out faith that he would suddenly make a miraculous recovery with his unfortunate aura. He was desperate. Perhaps then he wouldn’t be doing this alone.

His thoughts dissipated as he approached the source of the new noise. Loud voices and glass clicking could be heard coming from a building rather ornate. A neatly decorated roof, with wooden ornaments and stone walls. Much better cared for than the rest of the crumbling infrastructure that he passed by. And popular enough to garner a bit of a crowd against the sea of drunken celebrations in the streets.

Taking a few steps to round around the building, he could see the hanging wooden sign of “Drunken Pig” before the awning, and the overwhelming smell of beer and rum wafting from the open door.

Some sort of Tavern, then. That was as good of a place as any to go and find some information. Perhaps someone there would be able to explain what was going on here, and lead him towards a proper direction. It was certainly better than trying to wrestle with the people he just glimpsed.

If they recognized him however...then this would all be for naught. That familiar fear swelled within his chest once more. Only did it dissipate another strained grunt from Qrow against his shoulder--his courage returned, and he swallowed his anxiety.

With a heavy sigh, James stepped into the Tavern, careful of not scraping Qrow against the doorway as he moved.

It was certainly busy here. Many souls rested against the bar or sat at the tall tables, nursing their liquor, most straight from the bottle. No one paid him any heed past a cursory glance; their alcohol must’ve been that much more interesting.

James slowly stepped further inside, looking over the attendants and then to the bartender behind the polished wood. At least it wasn’t nearly as exciting as outside. Maybe someone would listen to him here.

“Ah, excuse me--” James quickly began, stepping further into the bar. “--please. My friend--he needs help. We were in a plane crash, and I need to return to Atlas immediately. There’s been a--”

The bartender glanced over his shoulder, the rag wiping the glass slipping from his hand. A gentle smile flashed across his clean shaven face. He slowly turned to look at the General, placing the glass down upon the bar. With his hand pulled away, somehow the glass had been filled miraculously with a dark alcohol. Some sort of trick of the hand, perhaps?

“Come, sit down. It’s been awhile since we’ve had newcomers. Have a drink. Put your feet up. Relax.” the bartender smoothly responded.

Such an idea was practically offensible to James.

“What? No! I don’t have time for--can’t you see this man is injured?” James snapped. “I need to get him medical attention immediately! I’m not here for a drink! Please, you must understand.”

“Ah come on, mate. It’s alright. Kick back and relax. It’ll all work out.”

He stole a glance at some of the other clientele in the establishment. Most seemed to be still suckling their drinks at the bar or at the scattered tables in the tavern. Some seemed to be half asleep, lost in their own thoughts. Others seemed mildly distressed, overwhelmed by their drinks or their own imaginations. None, however, stole a glance over at James; none seemed the least bit interested.

James grimaced, taking a slow step back away from the bartender and offered the drink. His knees buckled briefly. 

He just needed to sit down, just rest for a few moments and get away from this mess...just gather his thoughts. What he wouldn’t give to sit down and take a few small sips of that drink...his head was so full, it throbbed painfully with stress and anxiety. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to help Qrow? None of these people seemed to be willing to lend a hand, nevermind comprehend what was wrong.

“Haven’t you seen or heard the plane crash just on the beach?” James demanded quickly. “We were in that crash! Atlas and Mantle are currently under attack! There needs to be--”

“Relax. Don’t worry about it.” the bartender’s smile remained. He reached over, nudging the glass closer to him. “Nothing bad can happen here on Pleasure Island, mate. Everything you’re worried about? All far away now. Just drink your worries away.”

“I--”

In James’ overwhelming and crushing paranoia, he hadn’t realized that someone was approaching him until the hand was touching his side. With a startled gasp and a clutching motion onto Qrow, he quickly whirled around to face the source. Anger and hatred flashed in his eyes, prepared to fight his way out of here if necessary. Very much like a cornered animal.

“Jim?”

It wasn’t until his eyes laid upon her that he quickly realized who this was.

_ “Ay! Boy!” the woman hollered up above. She hung out of the cockpit of the small fighter jet, her curled graying hair falling around her face. Her green eyes alight with mischief, and her smile caused her nose to crinkle just a bit. Dark, calloused hands pressed against the hood of the metal jet. _

_ “I’m here! I’m here! Sorry, I--sorry!” James found himself panting as he ran across the hanger to her. He dodged the workers, who hollered in annoyance as he barrelled through. _

_ An amused, drawn out sigh left her lips. She slumped against the back of the jet, careful to not get her long white coat caught. _

_ “You’re late again, boy. You’re lucky the General’s not around to catch you.” she warned. “He’s not as nice or understanding as me. And if you want to catch his attention, don’t let him catch you doing something you’re not supposed to be.” _

_ “I know, I know.” James panted. He slid to a stop, peering up at her. Despite her words, she still grinned down at him. She didn’t look the least bit angry. Instead, she looked enthralled. _

_ “Caught with that Vale boy again?” she questioned. A barking laugh when he turned a brisk red. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell if you don’t act stupid today. Listen, I said don’t let him catch you, not that you couldn’t do it. Got to live a little, boy, before you get old and cranky like me.” _

_ James released a strained wheeze. _

_ “Come on boy. Get your shit together.” she cackled, straightening herself out in the jet. “Get ready for take off. I told you not to act stupid today. We’re going for another flight, farther than I’ve taken you before.” _

_ “Yes, sir.” _

_ “None of that sir, shit.” she waved him off. She squatted down in the jet, getting her gear together. “Valerie’s fine. I’m not your grandmother or anything.” _

_ James cracked a small smile. _

“Oh gods, Jim. It’s actually you.” the older woman gives a harsh, bitter laugh. “I thought it was you. It looked like you. I couldn’t tell if it was yet another trick of the mind. But it really is you. Oh gods Jim.”

James took in a harsh breath, feeling his throat close up with the impending emotions. No, this couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. Valerie...the old Ace-Op, the one that had been his mentor, that had taught him everything there was to know about being a soldier, a pilot, a leader. She had took him under her wing and allowed him to flourish. Back when he was an Ace-Op himself, she had served under the old General as one of the best and most skilled huntsmen in the entire continent.

Right before his eyes, he was back to a soldier only just accepted to be an Ace-Op. So real, as if he were reliving that very same memory. So close to the surface.

“I don’t understand--” he quickly tried to rasp. The burnt fingers on his injured hand trembled. “--you went missing over a decade ago. You never returned from your mission. It was as if your plane was just...swallowed up. We couldn’t find you no matter how hard we searched. Nothing. How are you…? It’s...you look as if you haven’t aged a day.”

“I wish I could say the same to you, boy.” Valerie snorted. “Frankly, you look like shit. You...gods, you’re beginning to gray. Has it really been that long…? You’re...ha....you’re not a boy anymore. Had I not been staring right at you I would find it hard to believe. Hard to really believe anything around here anymore.”

Her gaze flickered to the man splayed across James’ shoulder, and her smile vanished. Old worry gnawed at her features, strange emotions present. Anxiety, guilt, betrayal--he hadn’t had the capacity to understand them in those moments. But her previous joy and bewilderment had vanished suddenly.

“What the hell happened to you? Who’s this?” she quickly asked. Her hand reached out to touch Qrow’s face, causing the man’s eyebrows to furrow downward and release a soft groan.

“I, we--”

“Oi.” the bartender called from the bar once more. “Awfully chatty today, ain’t ya, hon? Taking me by surprise. You know our new friend here?”

His smile prevailed, yet something sinister seemed to be etching out from behind his eyes. Some of the other clients lifted their heads, all staring now at James and Valerie.

Valerie’s eyes narrowed, quickly muttering. “We can’t talk here.”

“What?” James whispered in return. The air grew tense, the bar now silent except for their hushed voices. Multiple eyes focused upon them, and James felt that panic swell in his ribcage again.

Valerie lifted her head towards the bartender, hollering back to him.

“Ay, Ralph. You off and disturbing the new guy? The fuck’s wrong with you?”

“He’s over here causing a ruckus. Offered him a drink and mate don’t wanna take it.” the bartender scoffed. “If he don’t want nothing, then I’ll be happy to show him out. Me and the fellas. Unless there’s something bout him ya wanna share?”

“Well you’re certainly not gonna make him want shit now.” she scoffed. Her head tilted back to James, eyes flitting to him. “Listen. This place isn’t what it seems, alright? Meet me at the butcher in twenty minutes. Bring him with you. He’ll die out here if we don’t get help. But it’s not safe to talk here.”

James swallowed hard, shooting the other customers a look. No longer did they seem entranced and in a stupor, but now, wide awake and staring through James and his occupant. That same anxiety swelled back up into his throat. His scalded fingers brushed against Qrow’s side.

None of what Valerie said made sense. None of it was comprehensible. Yet, he could feel the waves of intimidation and irritation coming from the customers, and Valerie’s protective, defensive aura. His fingers dug into Qrow’s side, ignoring the man’s soft whine. 

He stiffly stepped back from Valerie. Whatever this was, at least one of these people could be considered a friendly face. He was running out of options here, and staying here wasn’t going to get Qrow any better.

With a great reluctance he stepped back away from her and to the door of the tavern. As he moved, he could hear one of the customers hollering in frustration at Valerie, who merely scoffed in response. He didn’t want to just leave her here, but if she knew more than he did, then well, that was already a step above him.

“We’re leaving, Qrow. To the butcher, then.” he muttered softly to Qrow. Heavily did his metal leg move, giving him enough momentum to overcome the stiffness and keep walking. 

Hopefully this wasn’t yet another trap. But if there was a place at least he could sit and catch his breath, then...he’d have to take the chance. He had to trust that they would be fine. He had to put faith that they could get out of here. 

Surely people were looking for them...if not him then Qrow. His nieces would be searching for him. His friends. The Ace-Ops. Clover…

James felt his heart clench tightly. Clover was injured. That was what Qrow told him. Clover was injured, but alive. He hadn’t the chance to lay eyes on him himself. Surely Clover would be alright…

“It’ll all be alright. I promise you, Qrow.” James rasped. “We’ll be alright.”

==


	13. Chapter 13

The stench of rotting meat hanging on the hook was enough to nearly make James gag. Lines and lines of maggot-filled carcasses belonging to boars, cows, and some unrecognizable animals hung from the ceiling. There was only a breath’s width of room for him to step through further into the out of service freezer. Even the air held an immense pressure within it, like they were on a mountaintop. Heavy and thick with decay which made it hard to breathe properly.

It was no wonder Valerie wished to meet them here. No one would even walk anywhere close to this place--even down the trail he could smell the rank stench. If it was privacy she wanted, she would get it here. Wherever...here was.

Stepping across the grimey tile floor and past the decaying meat, James reached the back of the building. Another door resided to the left, with a large two way mirror stretching across the wall. Just as easily as the first door opened, this one gave way with a well place kicked to the rusted locks. It swung open with a loud clang, and James quickly slipped inside.

The room clearly hadn’t been used in quite awhile. It appeared to be some sort of office space, with empty shelving units pressed to the back wall and a large desk with a moldy seat placed in the middle. The entire room reeked of mildew and the air felt damp. Upon a cursory glance he couldn’t find any sort of identification or titles of note. No photos, no certificates, no signs...nothing.

James released another trapped breath. His shoulders slumped, as he very slowly limped to the desk. Each step was getting harder and harder. His prosthetics were not made for exposure to water--rain was no matter, but it was the submerged in the salty ocean water that was doing him harm. If this continued on for much longer without any sort of relief, then he was worried that his limbs would lock up permanently.

Yet, that thought was dismissed as he heard Qrow whimper once more. His own troubles could easily be dealt with later. The man that was in his care was his primary concern. He could deal with immobility, as much as he hated the thought of helplessness, so long that Qrow would survive and be alright. Even Atlas felt like a distant concern in those moments. Solely Qrow’s survival meant the world to him.

With great effort, James slid Qrow off of his shoulders. He lowered him onto the desk, letting his feet dangle off the far edge. Upon the movement and his head resting against the hard surface, Qrow released another agonized groan.

The release of weight off his shoulders left James’ throat tight. Each wheeze leaving Qrow’s lips brought James sudden shocks of longing. How desperately he wished that he could banish all the pain he felt, and bring Qrow back to him. He craved to hear his words upon his lips and feel his touch against him--

“Shh...I know, I’m sorry.” James quickly rasped. He shakily rubbed his soiled sleeve against Qrow’s face, trying to wipe away some of the dried blood that had dripped down his cheeks and against his eyes. 

The movement seemed to rouse Qrow once more. His eyelids fluttered briefly, and James quickly hovered over him. Another shock of hope lingered that perhaps his prayers were acknowledged.

“Qrow? Can you hear me?” he begged. “Please--”

Yet his call was left unanswered again. Qrow’s eyes remained half lidded, his pupils blown out enough that his red irises weren’t the least bit visible. Each breath was raspy and hoarse, uneven and heavily labored. It clearly took every ounce of his energy just to breathe. That was something James could do little to help him with, and it pained him.

James dabbed his tongue against a remaining white spot of his sleeve, and then rubbed the damp fabric near the concave of Qrow’s eye. 

The dark red blood easily stained his jacket, along with a few streaks of a strange, gooey black substance. It caused him to blink in mild surprise, pulling it back to look at it. Mixed in the blood, splayed like ribbons, was thick black clots. No smell came from it. It couldn’t have been infection, nor necrosis--they had only been walking for at most an hour, now. And even if it was, it wouldn’t have looked like this, and it would’ve had an overwhelming, disgusting odor. Perhaps it was simply blood clots?

“What happened to you, Qrow?” James rasped out. He reached over again, pushing Qrow’s damp and stuck hair out of his face. The bullet hole still remained puckered against his hairline, but at least seemed to no longer be bleeding. No fresh blood oozed out of the hole, to James’ surprise. Whatever it was, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about the man bleeding out.

The wound itself was dark, with that same black color and consistency as to what he wiped up earlier. No, that wasn’t the color of dark blood clots. It was black as ink. He debated wiping down the wound to try to clean it (perhaps some sort of sea life or clay or sand or  _ whatever  _ fell on his face) but found he was running out of clean cloth to use. His own arm already throbbed and burned with settling infection.

James exhaled again. His wounded arm hung limply at his side. Exhaustion pulled at his bones now that adrenaline and fear wasn’t pumping through him. He was so tired. So, so tired. Just...just needed to sit for a few moments…

He fell down in the dusty bare chair behind the desk. It creaked under his weight, but made no other rejections. His injured arm shifted to rest lightly in his lap, and his head slowly fell forward. The stiff prosthetic hand rested against Qrow’s pale fingers. No movement was felt beneath.

“I don’t know what to do.” James lamented softly. “I...I don’t know how to get us out of here, or how to fix you. Our world is falling apart to a woman who cannot die, and we’re stuck in this strange place. We have no way to contact for help. No one here wants to even look at us. Yet my old teacher is here. My ship was destroyed. The grimm are flying in masses above our heads. I can barely move, and you…”

His eyes flickered upon to his face. Qrow made no sound; he stared up into space, lips parted slightly, and eyes still blown. 

“Whoever or whatever did this to you…”

A sudden fierce anger swelled in James’ chest. It overwhelmed him in a harsh wave. He growled softly, forcing his metal fingers to curl against Qrow’s still palm.

“...I promise I will make them pay. They will not get away with hurting you. I promise you. I...I don’t know how I’m going to do this, but I promise you that under any and all costs, I will protect you. No matter what it takes. I will take you home to your nieces, to your family. Even if it costs me everything, I will bring you home. I won’t leave any soldier behind. You never left anyone behind--you saved me, you saved Clover, you--”

The name brought his raging emotions to a halt. A strangled choke, and James blinked harshly a few times. 

Clover. Oh gods.

James felt overwhelming tears well up. They ran hot down his face as his lungs clamped shut within his chest. He hunched forward against Qrow again, bringing his hand up to his lips gingerly. That name sent back all the worry and uncertainty coming back to him. Those emotions he had managed to smother for the more demanding actions of salvation began to creep back to reality.

That man…

“I left him with the weight of Atlas upon his shoulders.” he wheezed. “Oh gods, what have I done to him? He never wanted nor asked for any of this. I have already asked for so much of him. And you already said he’s barely survived Salem’s wrath. Oh gods. Clover…”

He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his lips to Qrow’s knuckles again. The man’s hand lingered against his face, and James sobbed softly against it.

“I left him alone. I promised him I would never leave him. That I would remain loyal to him, as he’s done for me for years. I promised I would protect him. But I couldn’t even do that. I can’t protect you, nor Clover. Oh gods. What sort of man am I to be unable to do such simple things? To protect the men that I care about?”

He shook his head again, pressing another kiss to Qrow’s palm this time.

“My closest man...I’ve crushed him with the responsibilities I’ve taken on. He’s inherited my troubles. He never wanted this. He just wanted a new life, one to serve and protect. A better life, a better future. I’ve thrown him needlessly into danger countless times, and now he has my mess to clean up. Qrow...Qrow…”

Qrow’s eyes slowly blinked, to James’ ignorance.

“I can’t do this alone. I wanted to protect everyone, but I can’t even protect two men. I can’t even protect you. You’ve always done so much for me, and now I’m here, stuck at your side, unable to even help you from dying. You’re right. You were always right. I should’ve listened to others, I should’ve listened to you. I’ve failed my country, I’ve failed you, I’ve failed Clover. Oh gods. Please. I can’t do this alone. Please--”

James’ words trailed off, lost in the mess of his wails and sobs. He crumbled against Qrow, staining his shirt with tears as he cried.

==

The jacket they had given Clover felt too heavy. It weighed against his shoulders and felt as if it would drag him down to the floor. His arm rested against his chest within its sling; his hand wound in a tight fist. Was this what James wore every day? How did they have a back up waiting for him already? That thought was terrifying.

Clover stepped to the broken windows. The shutters were still dented and needed repairs. Most of the windows themselves were hastily boarded up. Ruby certainly did a number during her escape. However, she did leave one undamaged, and that was enough for him to gaze out.

Streets were torn up. Buildings had crumbled. The remains of aircrafts littered the roads and towns. Debris and rubble were numerous from destroyed structures and livelihoods. He could see flashing lights and dots of flags in desperate attempts to block out the ruins from the public’s curiosity. Yet up here, he could see every speck and every imperfection of the once beautiful city. 

He had seen this view countless times. Whenever he hoarded time in James’ office, or when he was piloting an aircraft of his own...this view was so offensively different from the more peaceful times he felt like vomiting. So much death and destruction...so much of the state still lay burning in front of him.

He understood why Winter had come to him for help, now. If Atlas was like this, then what was of Mantle down below? The country needed a leader right now. They needed someone to look towards. How many civilians were trapped and cowering in their houses right now as he looked down? How many were afraid to move forward and move on? How many lives were forfeit?

The whale had fled.

And yet, he still felt like they had lost.

Clover snorted, turning away from the glass.

“I’m not a fucking leader.” he grumbled to himself. He slowly walked to James’ desk, his eyes flickering down to the surface. He traced the dent made by James’ fist with his gaze. Papers and files and scrolls still littered the surface. It was left untouched after his absence.

“You told me I wouldn’t have to do this job.” he whispered out. “That’s what you told me when I took up your offer. That I can just stick to myself, work with the Ace-Ops, and follow orders. I wouldn’t have to give out orders again. Wouldn’t have to lead people. Wouldn’t have to deal with that stress. That you’d deal with it for me. And I told you that if I had to, I’d lead the Ace-Ops, but no more than that.”

A strained breath left Clover’s lips, and he stroked his hand through his hair. 

“Shit. That was kinda selfish of me, wasn’t it?” he laughed bitterly to himself. “Wanting the glory but none of the work. Ugh. Fuck.”

James was never selfish. He never understood how a man couldn’t just...want things. Everything he ever desired was for the good of the people. That was how he got this job anyways. But he still couldn’t wrap his head around it. James was just a damn good guy. That was why he followed him to the bitter end. 

He led the Ace-Ops, but still under James’ word. It was as much as he was willing to handle. He’d get all the love and adoration of being a leader, but without all the stress and workload. James relayed commands, and Clover told them what to do. He didn’t have to make any hard decisions. He didn’t have to be a true leader again.

This wasn’t the end. No, he wouldn’t let this be the end. Surely James was still alive. He had to be. He wouldn’t let this all be for naught. Perhaps he was with Qrow. Maybe the two were hiding out somewhere until it was safe. Yes, that had to be it.

Those two had so much history he couldn’t even fathom. He didn’t have anything like that with anyone here. Not with the Ace-Ops, not with Winter...barely James, but that was easily trumped by Qrow himself. 

What a strange man. He thought he knew him, after all of their interactions and their long nights entangled together. But the more he thought of it, the more that it left him wondering how much he really understood. He wanted to believe that the mysterious huntsman had easily survived this attack by Salem. That doubt still lingered, however, by the harsh reality of war.

A sharp knock at the door caught Clover’s attention. He quickly stood up straight, smoothing down his jacket.

“Come in!”

The doors slid open quickly, revealing the four Ace-Ops with Winter leading the pack. She smoothly stepped inside the office, with the four of them easily following behind. Her arms folded behind her back, gazing back over at Cover. All of their expressions remained surprisingly stiff and emotionless. 

Clover’s lips cracked in a brief smirk.

“General Ebi--” Winter began, only for Clover to bark out a laugh and wave his good hand dismissively.

“Nah, don’t start with that.” he smiled smoothly. He moved around the desk to better speak in front of the soldiers. A broad smile, gesturing openly with his free arm. “Come on. I’m not the General. Just kinda...doing what I was told. That’s all. James is the General, not me. Just Clover is fine. Come on, fellas, you know that.”

Marrow glanced nervously at Harriet, who’s eyes narrowed skeptically. Vine’s gaze flickered down and away, while Elm scoffed and crossed her arms. Winter merely blinked slowly, and allowed her own smile to flash briefly.

“Well then, Clover.” she hummed. “You’re still acting as General for the time being. And we’ve come to ask for your new orders.”

“Ah, what?” Clover coughed.

“You’re acting as General.” Winter repeated. “We have the updated reports from the past few days, and we need to--”

“Well, give them to me first!” Clover laughed. He leaned back against the desk, slipping his hand in his pocket. “Come on. I may be new to doing...whatever all this shit is...but this isn’t my first rodeo being a leader. I led the Ace-Ops--you know that, guys--and I know you can’t just ask me to bark orders out without first telling me what’s going on. I’ve been doped up the past few days. Catch me up to speed.”

“I mean, he’s got a point.” Marrow mumbled, causing Winter to shoot him a dark glare.

Winter released a soft exhale, looking back to Clover. “I sent you the files this morning. Have you at least taken a look at them? You said you’d be ready for this meeting by fourteen-hundred.”

“Yeah, well, I got busy.” Clover shrugged dismissively. “Eyes are bothering me, looking at a screen all day. Yknow. Just give me the basics.”

“I told you to--” Winter began, only for Marrow to quickly step forward. She shoot the faunus a look, and Marrow avoided her harsh gaze.

“We’ve begun stabilizing the mines in Mantle to prevent the explosion we were worried about earlier.” he began. “All nonessential buildings and sources have had their energy and resources diverted towards the hospitals and our defenses. We’re continuing the clean up and search and rescue efforts now as we speak. Right now we’re working on getting the last of the grimm out of Mantle and Atlas and trying to prevent any more structural damage near the crater. And fortifications for our defenses are coming along nicely as well.”

“Alright. Good.” Clover shook a fist towards Marrow, that smile still present upon his face, albeit forced. “Good, good. Uh, you said search and rescue efforts for the missing; any updates on the others? On uh...”

The words left his throat, and his smile faltered. Just saying the names seemed almost impossible in those moments. At least from Marrow’s grimace he seemed to understand.

“Uhh...Penny’s still missing.” Marrow quickly supplemented. “We haven’t been able to find her.”

“What about...?”

“The General and Branwen are...still unrecovered, as well.”

Clover’s jaw set. Winter stole a glance at Marrow, then to the man in chief.

“Keep searching for them. Find them.” Clover snapped to the five of them. His smile was gone, replaced by a frustrated, angered look. His hand in the sling curled in a tight fist; the other trembled lightly at his side. “Don’t stop looking for them. There’s still time. Salem’s stopped her attack for now, and we have a chance here. Find them.”

“Yes, sir.” Elm nodded; Vine grimaced before nodding as well. Harriet snorted softly and dipped her head.

Clover’s gaze flickered away, taking in another sharp breath. There was still time. It had only been a few days. If Qrow and James still drew breath, then he couldn’t afford to sit on his hands. With this position, he could get the search crews and man power out necessary. Salem gave them reprieve, the defenses were fortified...they could find the missing men.

James and Qrow couldn’t be dead. He wouldn’t have their last interactions be what they were. Not when he was just starting to understand his own emotions and his own needs. No, that was a stretch, more like he was recognizing that they indeed existed. Everything was still a mess, and his head was clouded with such lingering breaths.

“Go.” Clover waved the crew off. “Go on. You have your orders. Isn’t that what you wanted? Let me...let me read over the rest of these notes. And I’ll call you guys back with any other new orders. Or whatever. Just...call me with any updates, alright?”

The Ace-Ops saluted, beginning to leave the office. Winter lingered, staring intently at Clover. She didn’t move, even as Clover rounded back around the desk. He sat down heavily with a tired groan, head hanging forward. Only when he realized she didn’t immediately leave did he lift his head up.

“Yes, princess?” he cooed.

“Are you prepared for this job?” she questioned suddenly.

“What do you mean? I’m only doing what you asked.” he smirked, leaning against the desk. “You asked me to go and be a leader. I’m doing what I think is best.”

“Spending so many resources looking for two men?”

“Two of the strongest men that Atlas has. One of the best huntsmen, and the General itself. Finding them means we have back some strong forces in case Salem rears her ugly head again. Yeah, I think I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?”

Clover’s smile remained. He tapped his closed knuckle lightly against the desk.

“Come on, Schnee. Have some good faith. We have luck on our side.” he purred.

Winter’s jaw set, before she scoffed. Another last shake of her head, before she quickly turned to follow the Ace-Ops out of the office.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Ironwood stans how we feeling after Volume 8?

“James? You in here?”

James tore his attention away from Qrow’s lifeless body. He quickly sat up straight, sucking in a harsh breath. That voice. That was--

“Valerie! I’m in here!” he called.

How much time had passed in this small room? Quickly he wiped the tears away that had dripped down his cheeks and into his beard. How long had he spent crying over Qrow? In his grief he had forgotten of Valerie’s appointment.

He let his hand remain upon Qrow’s flimsy chest. The gentle rise and fall of his breaths and the thrum of his heartbeat under his fingers were soothing in those moments. Exhaustion still pulled at his muscles. His limbs struggled to cooperate with his orders. He was at his limit. Such helplessness, to be hiding away in a decayed butcher and relying upon ghosts for assistance. This wasn’t right. He was Atlas’ protector, provider. He shouldn’t be cowering like some feeble animal.

Valerie’s shadow stretched along the floor before she approached the ajar door. It was pushed open with a forceful shove of her shoulders; she grunted with effort, careful to not drop the bottles and small boxes tucked in her arms. She kicked an old block of wood on the floor against the door, successfully propping it open.

“Well, shit. Didn’t even realize this office was here. Good thinking.” Valerie hummed. She looked back at James. Upon her worn features, beneath the empty melancholy and lifelessness, there was a hint of joy and hope when looking at him. “No one would even want to think about coming here to snoop. If the smell won’t drive em away, I don’t know what will.”

“Mm.” James gave another brisk nod. He hesitated, watching as she dumped her belongings upon a side table that looked to have once held a computer. On the time-worn labels he could catch the names of “bandages”, “hydrogen peroxide”, and other such first aid measures. 

The breath trapped in his lungs vanished; he held on tightly to Qrow’s arm.

“Hopefully this’ll do. Best I could get, anyways.” Valerie hummed. She tossed a towel over the rest of the desk to form as a workstation, before beginning to unpackage her goods. “Not really much here. No one really tries to patch up others around here. Dog eat dog world here. No hospital or doctors around here. Just your own resourcefulness, I guess.”

James stared with a blank expression.

“Where are we, Valerie?” he asked suddenly. “What is going on here? How is any of this happening? Why is--”

“Shush.” Valerie snorted. 

James felt the rising anxiety come to a head, knotting in his throat as he glared at her.

“You said you would--”

“Yes, I said I would tell you. Don’t you want your friend to stop bleeding out first?”

James set his jaw tightly. The old pilot hummed, glancing over her shoulder at him with her own flat affect. She locked eyes with him, lingering for a few moments, before finally releasing another exhale. She picked up some of the supplies she needed with careful hands and then moved to the other side of Qrow.

She laid a rag over Qrow’s half lidded eyes. Her hand pushed some of the soiled bangs out of his face to expose the puckered wound at his hairline. She traced the wound with her eyes, and snorted softly.

“Let me ask you first; what the hell happened to you two?”

“I don’t…” James began, grimacing. He watched as she unscrewed a canteen of water, and poured it over the wound. It streamed into his hair and stained the white rag over his eyes a muddy color. She took some gauze, beginning to carefully clean the wound at his skull.

“It’s a simple question, James.” Valerie persisted. “What happened?”

“Don’t belittle me, Valerie.” James growled out. “I asked you a question first. I don’t have time to waste. I have to get back to Atlas, return to the kingdom, and--”

“Do you want your little boyfriend here to die?” Valerie quickly snapped. “Because it sure as hell feels like it.”

James remained still. His grip tightened on Qrow’s wrist. His nails began digging into his skin.

“What. Happened?” Valerie grit out.

“I was struck down.” James finally said. “We were defending an attack on Atlas, when my ship got struck down by a grimm. I crashed on this very beach.”

Valerie clicked her tongue briefly. If she was surprised or startled by his explanation, she certainly didn’t show it.

“You don’t get a bullet hole in your head from crashing a ship. I know as much. How did he get shot?”

“I--I don’t know what happened to him.” James admitted. “He wasn’t on the ship with me. But when I woke up, he was laying among the rubble. I found him like this.”

Valerie turned her attention back to Qrow. She gingerly wiped away the last of the clotted blood, showing the pink and now partially healed wound. It strangely didn’t look as deep as he had imagined it to be so under all that blood.

“So you crashed down here and found your friend almost dead.” Valerie mumbled. “Sounds about right.” She cracked open the bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and poured some of it over the wound. It bubbled a frothy pink instantly. Beneath James’ hand, Qrow’s arm twitched.

“What?”

“That’s how everyone ends up here. Stranded in some way.” Valerie explained. She unwound a roll of gauze, stretching it out as she waited for the solution upon his face to dry. “Crashed from a plane. Shipwrecked. Abandoned. Whatever it may be. People end up here against their will. People who should’ve died somehow walking on God’s green earth again. Sprung up like daisies.”

She carefully removed the now soiled rag from Qrow’s eyes. He was now squeezing his eyes shut tight with his breathing picking up. Even in his comatose state, he wasn’t comfortable with all of this touching.

James listened with a bewildered look, struggling to follow what she was saying. Before he could do so, she already moved on to another topic.

“No clue how your friend ended up like this, then?” Valerie questioned. “Don’t know what type was bullet was used, at least? Nothing?”

“No.” James said. “I...found him with that bullethole in his head. I don't know what came of it. He was found like that. But once I find who did this…”

“He has a smell to him.” Valerie interrupted.

“What?” James paused, turning to look at her.

Taking the rag, she wiped away the black bloody clots that were still caught in his hair. The same texture and consistency from early. Gingerly she pulled them out of his hair and any lingering splotches near his wound. She easily flicked them away and onto the ground beside her.

“You can’t smell it?” Valerie questioned, lifting her head to look up at him. “Grimm. He smells like a Grimm.”

“I--what?” James repeated, blinking in confusion. “Valerie, what are you going on about? All of this--what are you talking about?”

“This place. Pleasure Island. You wanted to know what this place was, correct?” Valerie snorted. As she spoke, she began to wound the gauze around his head to cover the wound. “Some call it Hell. Others call it purgatory. Either way, you can’t leave. There’s only one way in, and no way out.”

James stared intently at her, listening carefully.

“No one’s ever heard of it until they end up here. It doesn’t show up on a map. Doesn’t exist on your radar. You end up here because it wants you to.” she continued slowly. “And it won’t let you go, either. This island is designed for you not to leave, no matter how hard you try. Every possible temptation awaits around the corner. Food, drugs, alcohol, sex, riches...whatever your vice is, this place knows, and exploits it. There’s no ships that come in or out, but there’s always enough supplies to survive, and more. Enough to glut yourself.”

She tied a neat bow where the wrapping finally ended, the knot resting by his temple. She stood up straight with a grunt and a curse.

“This place makes you see things, too. Hallucinations. Things that aren’t there. Friends, loved ones, spouses, children...this island gives you everything you want and more. It doesn’t give you a reason to leave if you allow yourself to slip. Some find it easier to gorge until they vomit, to smoke until they’re seeing blood, and to drink until they don’t wake up. It’s easier than trying to find reality among the muck. It’s easier to fool yourself once you get to a certain point.”

James listened intently, his face growing paler. He blanched.

“I don’t understand--how can that be? That doesn’t--”

“Make sense? Course it doesn’t.” Valerie laughed. “None of this does. Some sort of higher power using this island as their little toy. Playing with the little ants living on it.”

She stepped back to her station, beginning to take more out of the boxes and uncapping more bottles.

“Not like anyone’s really looking for us. Only ones who end up here are the ones who deserve it. Murderers, thieves, perverts, y’know. The like. Those with unscrupulous past lives. The ones that no one will miss, or no one will care to look for. Abusers, liars, cheaters. Those who have nothing to lose except their own sanity, and those who are willing to even lose that. Turncoats, fools, bastards…”

She shrugged slowly.

“Those who are too afraid to return to the world they’ve come from. Society doesn’t love them or care for them. And they don’t care about themselves, either. There’s nothing to lose, then. It’s easier to slip away surrounded by an imagination where perhaps you’re not as unloved as is true.”

James felt his throat close up. The words swirled in his head, desperate to find purchase in his already overwhelmed brain. He repeated her words over and over in a struggle to make connections. 

“An...an island of the damned?” he questioned. “A place where the worst of the worst come to die? That doesn’t--how has this place been unknown for so long? This can’t be. I have to return to Atlas. People are looking for me. We’ll be--”

“Don’t count on being found.” Valerie scoffed. “Were you listening to me, boy? It’s off the radar. Some sort of cloak or something. I don’t know. Either way, not a damn soul has ever heard nor seen this island before. And you’d think that someone would recognize an abandoned circus carnival on a tiny little island. But nope.”

She carried her supplies back over to him. She gingerly laid them out over Qrow’s unmoving legs, using that as a table. With a gentle hand she slid her fingers against James’ bicep, lifting his injured arm up and away from his body.

James obliged, watching her once more. Under the faint light, fistulas oozing pus and blood were seen. It smelled worse than it looked. Infection had already set in, he realized, as simply looking at it made him finally note the temperature change in his skin. He was hot.

A place that housed the worst of society. Of course no one would go looking for them, if her words were anything to go by. Why would anyone look for the derelicts and leeches of society? Out of sight, out of mind. They were no longer their problem.

Then perhaps, Roman’s presence earlier did have some merit. It had been two years, but if he had fallen here, then perhaps...

“Then how did you end up here, Valerie?” James questioned. “I haven’t seen you in two decades. And you...barely look like you’ve aged a day in your life.”

“Ha. I’m honored. Wish I could say the same thing about you.” She scoffed. She unscrewed a second canteen and allowed the water to pour out over his arm. His arm jerked and he hissed through gnashed teeth, but allowed it to remain before her.

“Valerie--you went missing twenty years ago.” James continued. “Your plane went down. We’ve never found you. We searched everywhere for you. Is this where you’ve been?”

Her gaze grew distant, misfied. A shaking inhale, and she reluctantly, hoarsely nodded.

“I suppose so.” She rasped. “Gods. Have I really been on here for twenty years? It doesn’t feel like it, but that must be the truth…you’re graying, for fucks sake.”

Valerie moved the canteen aside. She took another rag, gingerly patting it dry and trying to clean up the lines of pus dripping down.

“Time moves differently here.” She explained after a pause. “I realized that after getting the current years from newcomers. Time moves slower here. What’s been twenty years for you has been, perhaps, two years for me. I should certainly be dead--I’m not exactly a spring chicken--but here I am. Alive and kicking. Debatably.”

James blinked dumbly. “That can’t be.”

“It is. And at this point, you better believe it. All the other crazy shit going on here...it's real. It's true.” Valerie scoffed. She tossed the rag away, and reached over for the open hydrogen peroxide. 

A sad laugh left her lips.

“Gods. Twenty years. You’ve grown old, James. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Not after the last time I saw you. You’re...ha, you’re all grown up. You’re getting wrinkles. I…”

She shook her head suddenly. Without a warning she poured it over his arm, causing him to bite back a howl of pain. She quickly squeezed his bicep in an attempt of comfort.

“Sorry. You know it needs to be done.” She muttered. He nodded past a bit lip. “Your arm looks bad--worse than his skull, if I’m being honest. It’s bad. It’s infected.”

“I know.” James hissed. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “But its nothing that I can’t handle. Once I return to Atlas--”

“Don’t you get it? There is no returning to Atlas.” Valerie snapped. “You’re stuck here with me, boy. I tried to get out. You can’t leave. Nevermind overcoming the temptations and the ease to never wake up all around you. You physically can’t leave. Is it settling in yet?”

“Why? Tell me.” he demanded.

“What do you mean why?” she barked. “I just told you--”

“No, you told me that people don’t want to leave. You didn’t tell me that they physically can’t.” he insisted. “Tell me.”

Valerie released a sigh. She unwound another roll of gauze, staring at the threading carefully.

“Grimm patrol the island. Hitting that beach means you’re on their territory. You’re overcome almost instantly. They tear you limb from limb. There's too many. Even if you have a gun, you’ll run out of bullets long before then.” she explained softly. “And even if you somehow get past them, the whirlpools will suck you up. There’s a wall half a mile away from the beach. We’ve tried to get a boat out there. But once you hit that invisible wall, you’re swallowed by the waves.”

She stole a glance up at James, who stared down at her with a horrified expression. She smiled faintly.

“I’ll save you the trouble. I tried. I was part of the last group who tried to escape. And I was the only one who survived.” Valerie laughed sadly. She began to wind the gauze around his arm. It was wrapped tightly, securely.

James fell silent for a few breaths. He gazed at her hands quickly making work. She had been stuck here for twenty years. The last time he saw her was...

_ Images flashed in his head. Gunfire, the smell of gasoline, screaming, his plane flying down, down into the ground, Valerie crying, and his desperate pleas for survival. _

James grimaced. He stroked his thumb against Qrow’s arm gently, still holding on tightly.

“We need to try again, Valerie.” James spoke up. She didn’t look up from her work. “Qrow will die if we don’t return to Atlas. I need to return to my post. I have a responsibility to the Kingdom. I can’t let everything I worked for fall. The threat outside of this island, its far greater than anything we’ve ever seen before. And I can’t afford to sit here and let whatever magics of this island win.”

“It’s not worth trying, James.” Valerie whispered. She tightened the knot by his wrist. “Whatever’s controlling this island must be a remnant from the old world. There’s magic here, controlling everything and not letting us leave. We have nothing to stop that.”

James let his gaze fall to Qrow’s face. The man kept his eyes closed, inhaling and exhaling slowly. James’ fingers twitched, and he moved his hand from his arm to stroke against his cheek.

“This wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had to fight against an ancient magic.” James laughed bitterly. “You’re not alone now. Perhaps we can find something this time. Something to break to spell. We know what we need to overcome--these vices, the Grimm at the beach, and the wall out in the surf, am I correct?”

“Yes, but--”

“Then that’s where we’ll start.” James gave a brisk nod. “We may not have magic any longer, but we can find a way to overcome it. Magic may seem incomprehensible with no rhyme nor reason. But there’s always something to it. There’s a method to it. It’s not completely without explanation. Perhaps we find the source and shut it down.”

“You’re serious.”

“I am.” James huffed. “There’s too much on the line, and I refuse to simply lay down and die. I won’t leave my men behind.”

“Gods, you're still as stubborn as a damn boarbatusk.” Valerie scoffed, shaking her head. “Of course you’d end up being the damn General of Atlas. You’re too much of a hard head to even think about changing your mind. Ha. Fine, fine. You want to play with fire? What the hell do I have to lose?”

James allowed a weak smile to cross his features. “It’ll be...wonderful to work with you again, Valerie.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that, boy.” Valerie waved dismissively. She turned suddenly, regathering her supplies and depositing them back at the original workstation. “Last time we worked together; don’t you remember? I don’t know how you’re up and standing and in one piece--relatively--but don’t you remember what happened? I’m a liability.”

“Valerie--” James scolded. “--are you referring to what happened to me? The crash? That wasn’t your fault. Please. We don’t have time to dwell on the past and on guilts. Just...please, Valerie. You’re the only one here who can help us. We can get off of this island together, and return to Atlas. I promise you.”

“I always told you not to make promises you can’t keep.” she laughed sadly, shaking her head. “I’ll tag along. I don’t know what you’re going to do, especially with your friend there. You can’t leave him here. Not with him smelling like that. Are you just going to drag him everywhere with you when he runs the risk of his brains slipping out?”

“If I have to then I will.” James immediately retorted. His fingers stroked through his hair, his eyes narrowing. “You mentioned that earlier. His smell. And I don’t think you mean he hasn’t had a bath.”

“What? You can’t smell that?” Valerie turned around to face him, a bewildered expression upon her face. “Grimm. He smells like grimm.”

“I don’t know what that means.” he growled softly. “Please don’t speak to me in riddles.”

“It’s not a damn riddle. You really don’t know what I’m talking about?” she questioned. “Shit. Must really have been on here too long. It’s part of the curse of this island. Ones who have lost sight of themselves, either from their temptations, their grief, or their regrets. Whatever it may be. Lost themselves. Whatever it is, they lose themselves. Not quite grimm, but not quite human. Consumed by their negative emotions. They end up having a smell to them. Not quite decay, but...not much better.”

James’ attention turned back to Qrow. The hand stopped stroking through his hair, and his expression twisted to horror and confusion.

“Lose themselves? Are you...are you saying that they become Grimm?”

“Can if they’re not shot down right away.” Valerie shrugged. “Ha. Maybe this is where Grimm come from. That would be ironic, wouldn’t it? Most people on this island know to shoot on sight. They’re not human anymore after a certain point. And if they catch him smelling like that, they’ll finish the job.”

James couldn’t breathe. A sudden terror shot through his veins.

He recalled his last moments on the ship. His back to the console (and to Penny), with the gun trained on the beast that had torn through the hull of the ship. The creature that had worked its way onto his ship and approached him. A creature of grimm, with an ugly face and distorted body. That thing which had reached out and called his name--

“James?” Valerie called softly. “You alright?”

James slowly pulled his hand away from Qrow’s face. He blinked hard a few times, struggling to get air to his lungs. With a great deal of effort, he nodded.

“Ah...yes...I...I’m alright.” he rasped out.

“Alright. Well, I’m not going to stand here for too long.” Valerie sighed. She packaged away her goods, wrapping them up in the towel to use as a makeshift sack. “How about I meet you back at the boardwalk tonight? I’ll go ask around and see what I can find. Gives you some time to rest. Or explore. Whatever you want to do. You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

James stiffly nodded, staring down at Qrow’s face. Valerie lingered, watching him intently. She finally exhaled, lugging the bag over her shoulders.

“Alright. Be careful, alright? Both of you.”

James didn’t answer her. He heard her walk out of the room and back towards the exit. But he didn’t move right away. His attention was completely grabbed by Qrow beneath him.

What was he to make of all of this? Strangely, the knowledge of being trapped by a cursed island was the least of his worries in those moments. It was instead the new knowledge given to him about Qrow’s status that terrified him.

His thumb ran lightly over the thin bandage wrapped around Qrow’s skull. He could feel the outline of the wound beneath it; Qrow whimpered in reaction at the touch.

“Have...have I done this to you, Qrow?” James rasped. “What are you?”


End file.
